Ballad of the Masses 2
by bluekrishna
Summary: More Marcus and Susan, switching between their perspectives. In a post-Shepard galaxy, who is left to stand against tyrants? Tyrants hell bent on their own agendas, who would steal away the people Shepard called companions for their own dark purposes. This is a continuation of the Mass Symphony saga, with OCs and appearances by old friends. Very mature content for maturereaders
1. Chapter 1

_Has it really been that long? _Marcus ran a hand over his fringe as he stood in the cockpit, looking over the instrumentation on the console in front of him with a dizzying feeling of vertigo, surprised at what they were saying to him, with their blinking orange light that was telling him frankly that yes, it had been that long. _Hadn't it felt even longer at times?_, his mind whispered, those desperate times when he'd nearly lost the battle for survival on this frozen rock? He cringed as he thought, _a year...a whole year..._

He turned slightly to take in the corpses of the slavers that had tried to take him captive. This was a tiny ship, even smaller than his old vessel, not sleek like the Mark II, but old, rusty, ramshackle parts just thrown together. He wondered how it was even spaceworthy. The men that had flown it here, to 'rescue' him, had thought him easy prey, to be taken and sold to some mining colony or something similar. He clenched his fists as he recalled the hope that had filled him painfully at the sight of the small ship landing outside his camp. The rush of warmth at the first sight of people after being alone for so long with only a beast and a geth that for the most part was silent to conserve energy. He remembered the anger that had eclipsed the hope when he realized that the too friendly faces that greeted him with sweet words had hidden a ravenous avarice that only the coin gained from selling him into slavery could satisfy.

The first shot that had him diving for cover, the scream of one of the men as his furry companion leapt for him, taking him down under the animal's bulk easily. Marcus remembered feeling slightly nauseated at the sound of crunching bone that split the night air. There was a flurry of movement as he shot and was shot at and dodged and _survived_ as he'd learned to do over the long, lonely months, moving purely on instinct, and he came to slowly, finding himself kneeling on the deckplates of the ship, the last slaver's throat in his hands, his too long, too sharp talons piercing the salarian's slender neck nearly to the bone, blood spilling in rivers over his fingers as he choked the life out of the man.

Blood that even now caked and dried on his talons, he looked down at it, grimacing in disgust. He shook himself free of the recollection for now and looked around. There was very little here, they must have been very poor slavers. He supposed he should be glad that they hadn't been more competent or he'd have been chained and tossed in their hold by now. Turning on his heel briskly, he began searching for useful items. Most of the weapons were old, not as old as the ancient sniper rifle he had been using, but at least they had plenty of ammo, a bit of currency and some things that were tradeable.

Too bad there hadn't been a turian among them. What he wouldn't give for a pair of boots, anything better than the tattered and knotted rags he used now. He went and packed up Ushal and his things from camp, flicking his mandible at his beastly companion, who yawned and stood, padding to his side as he made his way out in the snow. He dropped a hand into that soft warm fur, "Caesar, it's time to say goodbye."

The pair made their way to the crash site of his ship, its bones having long ago been stripped of anything useful. It was now a twisted heap of metal, gently rusting in the frozen wasteland. Marcus stood before the cairns that covered the bodies of his brother and his shipmate, head bowed reverently. Heart clenching painfully in his chest, he crouched with a sigh and spoke, voice harsh from disuse, "Paulus, I...wish I could take you both with me. Take you...home. Spirits, I wish it had been me. It should have been me..."

He looked up at the stars twinkling up there in the firmament, thinking about how often he'd found himself here, saying these words, "I'll make it right. I swear I'll make it right, whatever it takes."

"And when it's done, I'll..." He didn't say the next part aloud, it wasn't a promise to his brother, who he knew would be angry at what Marcus intended to do, but to himself. Paulus wouldn't want that, wouldn't want to be the reason for that and shame ghosted up Marcus' spine. He fought the feeling back. There was no other outcome for him, no dreams but the one and once it was fulfilled, once justice was served, he would be empty and free to escape the horrors of his life. He stood and looked back down at his brother's last resting place, "Spirits, I miss you. Goodbye, Paulus. Hope to see you soon."

Silently, the pair walked back to the slaver's ship where it squatted outside the mako that had been home for many months and he stopped before the ramp, turning to Caesar, "I suppose this is goodbye as well-"

The beast cocked his head at the turian as he walked past him and into the ship, yawning hugely as he plopped down onto the deck, rolling onto his back. Marcus' browplates lifted in surprise and shook his head at the furry animal, "I can't take you with me, Caesar."

One golden eye focused on him and he thought he saw laughter dancing in its depths and he shook the fanciful thought free. That eye slid shut and Caesar started rumbling deep in his chest, clearly intending to stay exactly where he was and that startled a short laugh out of Marcus, who threw his hands in the air helplessly, "Fine, have it your way. Don't know how I'm going to hide you from port authority when we dock at the Citadel. I'm sure there's all sorts of regs regarding dangerous carnivores roaming about. Ushal?"

He activated the gauntlet with its glowing orb, bringing it up eye level. There was short hiss as the comms opened and the geth who inhabited the ball spoke, "Marcus, have we secured passage with the transport?"

"There was a problem. They weren't exactly...friendly."

There was a long pause and then the geth spoke, "I assume it's safe to speculate that they are dead?"

Marcus scratched his fringe, browridges drawn down, "Yes..."

"And we have the transport?"

"Yes we do. System's up and primed for liftoff. This old junker won't have an interface."

"It is regrettable, but unimportant. Splice this interface into a console and I will access the extranet for information. Logically, the next step would be to acertain the state of the galaxy."

"Yes, I had the same thought." He moved to the console, and made the connections with swift, sure movements. "What do you think has happened since we...?"

"That data cannot be extrapolated at this time." Marcus left the geth to commune with the machine and went to batten down all the hatches, checking systems and eventually found himself in the pilot's seat, staring at the controls before him with something almost like trepidation. Now that the moment had come to get off this rock that had been home for so long, he was almost reluctant. His life had been simple here, there had been no worries beyond surviving til the next day. Now he was faced with a vast unknown, what was out there waiting for him? For them?

Ushal spoke from where he rested on the console, "The extranet has been...changed. It is rigidly compartmentalized and many geth are guarding the access ports."

"What does that mean?"

The geth spoke again, his tones almost unsure, "I am not certain. I have been unable to download any data from the news feeds. The geth are blocking me from the collective. They are asking for an authorization code."

"Which we don't have. Great." Marcus sighed. Things were never simple, would never be again, "The geth won't even speak to you?"

"Apparently, they think I am not geth. Something is wrong. I have asked about Rannoch and they do not answer."

Marcus ran a hand over his fringe, and said with some hesitation, "Is it possible that some of the geth have turned traitor?"

"Unlikely in the extreme. No geth would give over the information the Shepard cultists seek, not even before the time of the Heretics had we reached consensus so quickly on any single matter."

"The...Heretics?" Marcus frowned, puzzled.

"There was a schism in the geth collective that led some of us to come to the conclusion that the Reapers were divine beings, machine gods. Our ranks were split over the decision to assist the Reapers in annihilating the organic races or staying uninvolved. Eventually, we were all shown the truth and we joined Shepard in defeating the Reapers."

He thought about it for some time while his hands worked the thruster controls, the module lifting off ponderously. Snow flew in all directions as he ascended above the terrain, taking one last look toward his camp, the downed Normandy SR-1 before the clouds obscured his vision. He achieved orbit in a matter of minutes and the white planet below spun tranquilly, unaware of his absence. He wondered if the rest of the galaxy was just as unaware. If his sisters lit a candle for him and his brother on high holy days. It might be safer for Marcus Vakarian to remain dead, might make it easier to feel around the current situation. Idly, he spoke, "Ushal, what is the truth? The one that was shown to the geth?"

The glowing orb that held the geth's consciousness whirred gently from where it sat, his hesitation immediately grabbing Marcus' attention. What had been a casual inquiry now triggered Marcus' innate curiosity, was the geth reluctant to answer? Why would he feel the need to be? Marcus pondered as he waited and after what seemed like an eternity his mechanical voice drifted to where the turian plotted a course to the nearest relay, "Marcus, there are things I am not free to divulge, even to you. Even after all you have done to save us, for which you have my gratitude."

He felt a twinge of anger at this, but it subsided, "Better that I don't know, so it won't get tortured out of me later. If I get caught or something."

"My concern precisely. I can give you this, though it is a poor gift after all you've done for me." The geth paused and then continued in subdued tones, "There are no gods."

Marcus shivered as the words rolled over him like a deeply resounding knell and he felt a touch of awe then, just a touch. Some piece of him heard the truth in the simple phrase yet it was also incomplete and instead of being comforted, he only felt...unsettled. He shook the thought free for now, there were more immediate concerns to take care of, like how he was going to get this junker halfway across the galaxy. He set the autopilot and leaned back, letting his mind work out plans and more plans but without knowing the situation out there, it was next to impossible to find an angle in which to exact his revenge. He would just have to wait and watch and hope that when the opportunity presented itself, he would be ready.

* * *

The transport limped into comm range of the Citadel and Marcus vowed to get rid of the failing thing as soon as they docked. Surely some merchant on the Presidium would buy it, if only for scrap and maybe he'd get enough to outfit himself in something more than rags and what clothing of the slavers he'd been able to modify to fit his tall turian physique.

Marcus flipped open the comms, "Transport-41A to Citadel, requesting permission to dock."

There was a long pause, he peered at the sedately spinning space station and noted all the warships that surrounded it, imagining all those guns swinging to target him. There was easily half a fleet here, and he tensed as the cold reply rolled through the speakers, "Citadel to transport-41A, you will dock at bay 23 and submit to a search. Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction. Do not attempt to flee."

Marcus swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth and leaned over the microphone, "Transport to Citadel, understood."

He maneuvered the ship clumsily into place, noting as he did the scorch marks that ran the length of the station. It had clearly seen battle, he could only hope that the council was still in charge, that he hadn't inadvertently put himself back into enemy hands. He stood by the airlock, unarmed and waited as it cycled. He found himself staring down the barrels of many rifles, the sound of loading heatsinks filling the small space.

He lifted his hands slowly, presenting himself as harmless as possible. The leading officer, a turian wearing the familiar blue armor of C-Sec stepped forward, his eyes cold, "Alone?"

Marcus nodded, "For the most part."

The officer's eyes narrowed, "Search the vessel. Every nook and cranny."

The men stomped about the small ship, tossing bunks and emptying lockers and Marcus nearly panicked as he remembered Caesar, but one by one the men returned, emptyhanded, reporting nothing unusual and Marcus almost sighed in relief. The animal must have found somewhere to hide, though where such a big beast could on this tiny ship was an interesting question. The leader turned back to him, omnitool up and scanning, "Where is your identchip, Mr. ...?"

"Cicero. Marcus Cicero. And I lost it." Marcus was a common enough name and his father's surname probably wouldn't raise any red flags in their systems.

"Explain." Said the man impatiently, eyeing him with suspicion.

Marcus rubbed his neck nervously, opting for a version of the truth, minus certain revealing facts, "I was marooned and some slavers decided I looked like a payday. But I escaped, killed a few of them, this was the first place I thought to go."

"If you were taken by slavers, where is your control collar?" The man seemed almost bored now and the surrounding officers relaxed marginally. Unwisely, to Marcus' mind, if he had intended violence, he saw several ways to incapacitate these men and lose himself on the Presidium before any stationside authorities were any the wiser.

"I...escaped before they could put one on me." The officer was staring intently at his omnitool and Marcus was sure he was monitoring his pulse and breathing to see if he was lying. So he kept to convenient halftruths as the questions kept coming, one right after another. One of the junior officers leaned in close to his superior and muttered, holding up the glowing orb that contained Ushal and Marcus forced himself to relax.

The turian snorted, "Why do you have a geth here?"

"I rescued him from the slavers." Technically true, if they'd taken him then they'd most likely have taken the geth too after searching his camp.

"Why would you do such a...generous thing? Maybe you were planning on selling the geth yourself. Maybe you heard about the reward the Shepards are offering for the capture of any of these orbs."

"Listen, I've been out of the world for a time. I don't know about any reward." He clenched his fists at his sides, trying not to imagine scenarios in which he could take down all of these men in a matter of minutes, how good it would feel to take out his confusion and frustration on these fools. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to spit his next words, "If you doubt my story, ask him yourself. Plug him back into the comms."

After a tense moment, the officer nodded to his subordinate. They fiddled with the primitive interface and stood away as the console lit up. The C-Sec officer addressed the ship at large, "Geth, is what this turian's saying true? Did he rescue you from slavers?"

Ushal replied, his mechanical voice smooth and even as it always was, "I owe him my freedom. He speaks the truth."

The turian harrumphed and cocked a hip, muttering, "Just another damned barefaced refugee."

Marcus started and resisted reaching up to touch his own face. How had he forgotten to paint his face? It had been so long since anything other than survival had occupied his thoughts. But that something so...basic had slipped his mind was alarming. He trembled slightly. Maybe he was farther gone than he'd feared.

"Geth, there is conclave of your people at the embassies. If you wish it, I can have some of my men take you there." There was genuine worry in the man's tone and Marcus watched him shift from foot to foot.

"Unnecessary, I trust Marcus to escort me there." There was doubt in the set of the turian's jaw as he turned back to Marcus.

Scorn as he took in the raggedy clothes, the officer sneered, "All weapons are to be stowed in the lockers at the base of the ramp. No exceptions. I suggest you get your business sorted out quickly and get this heap of shit off my station. Keep the orb hidden if you travel in the commons or the wards, or he's likely to get snatched and sold on the black market."

Marcus caught at the officer's arm as he turned and then held up his hands as the man swung a hostile glare on him, "I just-please, tell me what's going on. I've been out of touch for a very long time."

Something in his tone must have finally gotten through the man's bubble of hostility, because the officer stopped and appraised him with something close to pity in his gaze. Eventually, he answered, as he shouldered his rifle, "We're at war."

'At war' wasn't a phrase you used when the opposition was trifling thing. It meant that victory wasn't a forgone conclusion. Marcus reeled back in shock. Had this conflict gone on for this long? He needed to find out more, needed to get out there and see what the hell was going on. With a sinking feeling, he realized that it was going to be even more difficult than he'd imagined to find Aleia and avenge his brother's murder.


	2. Chapter 2

She woke to the taste of ashes in her mouth and grimacing, slowly sat up, rolling her legs to the side off the edge of the slim pallet. Susan cradled her head in her hands and suppressed a groan. She fumbled blindly the objects that rested on the small table at the side of her bed until she found the half empty packet of stims she was searching for. It hissed as it emptied its contents into her veins and she sighed as the chemicals went to work to stave off the headache and stiffness in her joints.

Truth be told, she used them far too regularly, but they gave her the edge she needed. Staved off the despair so she could work, and if the aches and shivery pains when the drug wore off were all she had to endure for the clarity and focus they gave her to survive this place and find out what they had done with her mother, then so be it. And as the months wore on and no sign of her mother was found, not a whisper, the deeper her malaise became.

Her newly awakened and sharp mind got to work on the task at hand and she cast her gaze about her surroundings. A dingy apartment on an industrialized planet deep in the heart of enemy territory. Thus far, her efforts to secure passage to the actual seat of power had been fruitless. She had to be clever and quiet, there were too many here that she'd known before, before the fanatics had taken over a full quarter of the galaxy. Everything from Eagle to Pangaea all the way out to the rim was theirs now. And while one little asari rarely got that much attention, her very distinct coloring might give away her identity and then she'd never find Liara.

She clamped down on that thought, forcing it back under a tide of anger. No, no mistakes could be tolerated, there were too many plans, too many people depending on her to fail now. She'd been an agent out here for far too long to let it all be for nothing.

She showered in the dirty bathroom in the corner, the water barely lukewarm and thought over her plans for the day. Meet her contact, a merc named Simple Simon, who'd help her get recruited into an outfit that ran ops all through 'Shepard' space. As they'd come to be called, she snorted derisively, _'the Shepards'. _She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought of these...animals being named for her, the dead woman who'd sacrificed so much so that they could all live. The Reapers might be gone, but the evils were still here, in the hearts of men and women as it always had been.

She dressed in her nondescript fatigues and light armor, strapped on some weapons and tucked her helmet under her arm before striding, slow and sure, to the window. Aircars and freighters zipped by, winding paths through the plethora of skyscrapers that was all this planet had left to offer for scenery. This was once a center of commerce, albeit mostly the shady kind, but clad in a veneer of respectability. Then the criminals of Omega had been evicted, rather forcefully, from their station and this is where they had come, re-establishing their little fiefdoms with brutal efficiency. In her mind's eye, she saw it grow darker day by day, the laws, such as they were, eroding as more and more license was taken with them and the regular folk here had to endure abuses from the authority that had long ceased to even pretend to care for them. Not even the Shepards had much sway over the corruption here, though they claimed dominion.

She wondered how that worked out, if Illium was required to tithe as all the other conquered colonies were. Or if they provided something else. She hummed in thoughtful silence as she pondered that. It'd be worth finding out. She'd pass the task to the next agent the Shadow Broker sent here, as her time here was soon over. She looked in the mirror to make sure her 'disguise' was suitably unimpressive and forgettable, that the deeper makeup she put on over her almost turquoise complexion gave her the expected blue luster that most asari had.

Pale green eyes stared back at her out of a cerulean face, she'd tried contacts to hide them, but found that the contacts messed with her depth perception. Better to have all her faculties sharp in this place that was full of slavers and cutthroats than worry about so often an overlooked feature of hers. She ran one finger under her eye, where there were dark and slightly puffy bags and sighed. She stepped back and took it all in. Just another peon, unimportant, maybe a tad too made up, but most would just see another vain female. Good. She nodded abruptly and turned to leave the empty apartment, recoding the door so the next agent was the only one who could open it.

She glanced out into the hallway._ Typical_, she thought as she walked to the elevator, trash littered the floor, paint was peeling from the walls, it really was a dump, but a dump that she'd called home for a month. She won't miss it, but the constant wandering was starting to make her feel rootless. No home to go back to, the Shepards had seen to that, she'd only seen the house she grew up in once and it was a ruin in a blasted landscape. Her sisters and Javik missing or dead, she didn't know. Alone and without an anchor. She clenched her jaw, no, her anchor was out there somewhere, in enemy hands and she'd get her mother back, oh yes she would and woe unto all that stood in her way.

* * *

"Simple Simon?"

The human turned, mouth stretched widely in a smirk and his eyes widened as he took her in. He was on the youngish side of middle aged, dark of hair with an impish gleam in his brown eyes as he held his hand out to her. Susan shook it and the human grinned even wider, "Just call me Simp. And yer the Bard, I presume."

She nodded warily, eyes scanning over his form to assess his threat level. Very low, but that might be a facade so she kept her defenses up even as she slouched into a more casual stance. She threw him a lazy smile as she spoke, "What have you got for me...Simp?"

"We-ell, our friend in shadow says hello and wants me to give you a spot on my crew, only as far as Omega, he says." Simp dropped her a wink, conspiratorially leaning closer to her and she leaned against a railing, eyes darting around to passersby as the human stopped mere inches from her face, "But a pretty little thing like you can stick around for a lot longer, if'n you want."

This close she could smell the rather sharp smell of whatever aftershave he uses and see the uneven yellowing teeth behind his smile and forced herself not to recoil at his clumsy attempts at seduction. Feigning interest, she slid one finger along his jaw, watching the muscles there twitch and she let her lips curl into a intrigued smile, arching a brow, "We'll see, Simp. And what of the other thing?"

Susan believed that if she wished it, she could talk this man into anything, the way he jumped to hand her the datapad with her intel on it. Everything she needed, she'd been promised and the Shadow Broker hadn't failed her yet. But then she knew who he was, she'd helped him take over the network when her mother had been kidnapped and Feron owed her mother so very much that he'd leaped to help her. Susan suspected a deeper reason, but kept it to herself. It was obviously a painful subject and one that was none of her business.

She came out of her speculations to Simp trying to read the intel over her shoulder and flashed him a gracious smile, reaching up to pat him on the cheek, "So, Simp. Tell me what we'll be doing out in the traverse."

Simp offered her his arm and she found it oddly charming, the strange human convention and placed her hand upon it. He led her along the walkway toward the spaceport as he spoke of what adventure could be found out there. She listened to him as he described the outposts and ships they raided, all enemy owned and operated. The Shadow Broker had many such 'mercenaries' under his employ, all specifically sent out to harass the Shepards, keep them occupied along the border. Simp rambled, "...And now, it's harder, what with the jump drives they use now, they can be anywhere in like an instant. Makes it hard to get away from the larger patrols, but we got our tricky tricky ways. And that just makes it more fun, ye ken. Like my fadda used to say when I were just a colony brat, boy, if it weren't a devil of a challenge, then it weren't worth doing."

She nodded and tuned him out for the most part, mumbling appropriate responses where required and turned her thoughts to the Shepards and their 'jump drives' as Simp so simply called them. That they could be anywhere in the galaxy in a matter of moments was something they'd used to devastating effect during the latter half of their rebellion. It was still a mystery how they accomplished such a feat, every scientist in council space was baffled by it. The math was impossible and yet the evidence that it was indeed possible stared them in the face. In fact the war had been alarmingly onesided and the only reason the Shepards didn't own the whole galaxy was that they'd stopped expanding of their own volition. Another mystery, though the theory was that they were consolidating their power base, which made sense to her. They didn't want to spread themselves too thin, their mass betrayal had only claimed a fifth of the total fleet and troop strength the galaxy had to offer. But that was a year ago.

Grimly, she thought of what would happen if they were allowed to marshal their forces and expand once more. Simp led her to a frigate, an old recommissioned turian frigate, its sharp angles jutting out at her and she saw the reflective shielding welded onto its matte grey flanks. It must have some sort of stealth drive and she wondered how these mercs had acquired classified tech and nearly smacked herself for her own stupidity. Did they not work for the most powerful information broker in the galaxy? No doubt, every ship in his employ had such tech. Simp stopped and turned to her, "Welcome, er, ye know, I never did get your name. It'd be awful awkward to call you 'the Bard' in front of me mates."

She debated giving him a false name and sighed, one thing she hadn't mastered was the use of aliases. Other names rang false in her ears and she inevitably tripped up while using them. It was good that she had such a common name, she smiled winningly at the merc, who puffed up under her stare in almost laughable fashion, "Call me...Susan."

He looked at her dubiously, suspecting that she was lying and she forced herself to show no reaction, though her lips kept wanting to twitch and he shook his head, "Okey...Susan. Welcome to the Outrigger, or 'Rigger as all me boys call it. You, being of the female persuasion, got a bunk all to yerself, aft of mess. I'll show you around and you let me know if them boys get fresh, I'll set'em straight."

"I can handle myself, Simp, though I appreciate the concern." She let him lead her up the ramp. If he wanted to act the gallant, then she'd play the lady and not clue him into the many many times she'd been elbow deep in blood, entrails and/or mud. She lifted her head and glided beside him in imitation of her mother's graceful stride, something she found uncomfortable to maintain outside of situations like this. She much preferred her natural frenetic gait.

"Aye, sure sure. Now, let's go meet the boys." The ramp led to a small cargo bay, there were vehicles in here, ATVs, a gunship and she breathed the scent of gun and motor oil in deeply. She'd missed it, the smell of battle, the only thing missing was the ozone smell of spent heatsinks. She saw a few men loitering here, playing dice. The deep rumble of krogan laughter, in counterpoint to disgruntled dual toned grumbling from the turian who'd just lost his wager. A salarian and a human gesturing and conversing together about, of all things, the latest string of dancers at some lounge on Illium. Simp picked up a length of metal and started pounding against one of the support struts near him, the loud sound ringing throughout the cargo bay, yelling over the noise, "Listen here, you shifty bastards! We got us a new crewmate. Every one of you sons of bitches say hello to Susan."

"Ha! What's she gonna be useful for, bait? Too scrawny to carry the big guns." The krogan advanced on her, stopping just within arms' length, eyeing her with one scarlet orb. But she'd been eyeballed by the best and this merc had nothing on Grunt and his uncanny blue stare. She stood her ground squarely and glared right back, not letting him bait her.

"Aw, boss, you went out and found us some entertainment? You big softie, I knew you loved us." The other human said and the whole crew laughed and leered at her lasciviously.

The salarian stood back and watched the exchange with humor, arms crossed in front of his chest but he caught her eye and let one eyelid droop in a half wink.

"These savages are just ribbing you, er...Susan, was it?" The turian, whose blank grey countenance was painted in tones of white crossed over to her and held out a hand, back stiffly straight, typical turian, polite but cold, his green eyes distant and she shook the proffered appendage, shaking back the sharp stab of recollection of two other turians, brothers, who'd both fallen on a moon far, far from here. "I'm Errol Tanis, engineer. That sad sack of pink flesh is Martin Taylor, our pilot. The salarian is Bau, our infiltrator and this hulk of a kro-"

"I can speak for myself, damn turian." The krogan shoved the slighter alien out of the way and hunched down in front of her until his face filled her field of vision and she suppressed the urge to headbutt the arrogant giant, knowing full well that while it might garner her the respect she wanted, that would be counterproductive to the persona of feminine flower she was cultivating for these men. She stood her ground though and met him glare for glare, because she couldn't find it in herself to be anything else. A glimmer of appreciation flickered in the krogan's eyes and he ground out at her, warm breath flowing past her cheek, "If we're going to be sharing our profits with you, then I need to know. What makes you think you're worthy enough to be in our krannt?"

Not breaking the staring contest, she spoke out of the side of her mouth to Simp, who stood tensely by in case violence should erupt, "Simp, he's the muscle, right? You're not going to need him to fly this ship?"

"Uh, aye, I mean no..." He said uncertainly, gripping the grip of his pistol where it was holstered at his hip.

"Good." She called up her biotics mentally and tossed a stasis at the krogan, who froze in place, slackjawed, eyes rolling in panic as he found himself immobilized. Then she leaned forward and planted a kiss on the krogan's nose, right between the eyes, which crossed comically trying to track her movements. There was a burst of laughter from all around her as the krogan's throat flushed and she leaned back, smiling at them all sardonically, "He'll be stuck for at least a quarter of an hour."

This was greeted with even more laughter and she sauntered, hips swaying, past them all to the lift, where she turned around and put one hand on a cocked hip, smiling warmly despite herself. They looked at her in awe and mirth, speechless and she rolled her shoulder and said in a low purr, "Hello, boys. Now who's going to show me to my bunk?"

They clambered to help her, climbing over each other in their haste. She heard Martin mutter at the back in low and frankly salacious tones, "Ooooh, we got us a biotic."

The salarian won the short scuffle to decide who got the honors and the rest broke up as Simp herded them to their stations, yelling at them to weigh anchor, an odd nautical phrase that had Susan's lips twitching into a smile.

She watched Bau out of the corner of her eye as they walked the tall, narrow corridors. His gaze was faraway as he casually remarked on the location of the mess, the bathroom, and other essential parts of the vessel. Finally, he halted outside of what she assumed was her bunk and turned to her with a gentle smile. She found herself instinctively liking this man, even if he was a merc. Bau leaned a little closer and said, "Impressive display back there."

Susan shrugged, "It was just a stasis."

He hummed in amusement, "I think that the impressive part was how you did it without a mimetic."

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously, "Ah, you saw that did you?"

"How is that possible?" Bau watched her closely and she felt that if she lied to this man, he'd know it. There was something about him and she examined him closer. He was broad shouldered for a salarian, but those shoulders seemed bowed slightly, like he was resigned to some...fate or something. He was also much older than she'd first supposed, her keen sight picking out the slight slackness in the flesh of his face, little wrinkles around his wide mouth and large eyes as they blinked down at her.

"Rather more direct than most salarians I've met. Where's your races' famous tact?" She said coyly, thinking that that was one thing her and his race were supposed to have in common. Games of intrigue between them was far from rare.

"I've found over the years that bluntness is less exhausting and often more rewarding." He smiled even wider, palming the door lock with one three fingered hand and then he winked at her charmingly, his voice a soft tenor, "If you're worried that I might have some nefarious designs in regards to this small piece of intel, let me assure you, I am merely curious."

She hummed thoughtfully as she stepped inside her accommodations, which were a bit larger than she'd expected, it even had its own facilities efficiently tucked away in the back. It was actually better lodging than the ones she had on Illium and she turned back to say how pleased she was and almost bumped into his chestguard. She stepped away in chagrin and he laughed, and she ruefully thought about how she was once again surrounded by people who topped her in height by a full head. Her small stature had ever been a source of irritation to her, even when it had come in handy. She looked up into his face and said with a crooked smile, "Well, I've found in my line of work that being unable to act when immobilized is very...inconvenient."

She left it at that, knowing he would more than likely take it at face value, though her calm smile hid a roil of emotions. Short flashes of memory of being helpless and unable to defend herself and others. She tucked away those..others for now, a bout of self recrimination over her failings could wait for a more auspicious time, like those times when she was alone and the stims were wearing off and the booze didn't quite take the edge away. Alone, she could afford to relax, not now. And certainly not in the presence of this unknown male, who was even now watching her with deeper understanding than she'd care to admit. He was a merc, this is her job, no need to become attached to these men when her time with them was so short. They were not her team.

Bau nodded sagely and said, "Well, I'll leave you to get settled in. Simp wants us all in CIC in fifteen for mission debriefing. See you there."

She waved farewell as he stepped back out into the hallway. Just as the doors closed, her eyes widened as he made a subtle sign with his hands. It was Gordian Cant for '_safe house'. _It meant he knew she was an agent of the Shadow Broker and it could mean he was one, too, though Feron had not mentioned that there was one on this ship he'd put her on, other than its captain, of course. She puzzled it over as she put away her belongings. She doubted the enemy knew about secret handsign language they called Gordian Cant, even though many other criminal organizations had turned to them for succor, there had been markedly few turncoats among the Shadow Broker's agents, an indication of how much the network had changed since Liara had taken it over. And Feron had rooted out the few there were and destroyed them utterly.

If Bau was an agent, if this wasn't some elaborate ruse and the salarian was a traitor fishing for information, a possible that was remote at best, after all, he had no way of knowing if she was a traitor and opening himself up to a stranger like he had only left himself vulnerable. She mused silently,_ safe house, huh? _It could only mean that there were no leaks on this boat, for which she was deeply grateful, if it was true.

She sighed as she pondered how complicated her life had gotten over the last year, how she missed slogging through the mud with her comrades in Aralakh Company, how she missed the euphoric sense of belonging that had been all hers for only two short weeks, how she missed them-

With a jerk, she turned away from that thought, knowing it only led down a painful road. She couldn't do anything for those two men now, they were long gone, the one with the kind grey eyes and warm hands that went so perfectly with his energetic, compassionate nature, the other with his intense electric blue stare hiding a frightening intelligence and skill. She had a job to do, she had her mother to find, once that was accomplished, then she could see about the rest and work alongside others to right what had gone so horribly wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

He wiped the sweat from his brow and placed the meager stock on the shelves before turning back to the vorcha that was asking his boss, John, about weapon upgrades. It hissed at the human, "Why you no have piercing mod?"

Marcus reflected boredom at the creature's threatening stance as John drawled, equally unaffected by the vorcha's posturing, "Look, I told you last week, it's not like I get regular shipments of parts. I have to find these things myself. You wanna blame something, blame the embargo."

"Sarko blame_ you!_ What Sarko want, Sarko get." The vorcha thrust a dirty fingernail into the man's face and Marcus had to suppress the urge to shoot it off or more enticingly, yank the arrogant fuck over the counter and sink a knife deep into his ribcage. The compulsion grew exceedingly hard to ignore as the vorcha swept all the goods from the table to the floor with one gangly arm and Marcus closed his eyes and breathed, willing the rage to cool, "Cipritine _shit!_ All you have for _turian gris'kital, _but none for vorcha!"

John laughed without mirth, coldly eyeing the sharptoothed alien, "Look, pal, why don't you just get out of here and go bother someone else. Someone who gives a shit what you want."

Marcus' hands tightened on the handle of his broom as the vorcha puffed himself up and raged, pounding a fist over the hooked staff emblem on his vest, "You give shit when I break ugly human face!"

A twitch toward John was all the vorcha had time to do as he soon found a wooden pole shoved smartly into his face in a stinging slap that reverberated through the small market. Marcus had leaped over the counter as the creature stumbled back and hit the vorcha with a barrage of blows that landed on his neck and shoulders and ribcage in a blinding flurry. The handle snapped and Marcus grinned savagely as he swept the male off his feet with a low kick, ending up straddling the vorcha with the sharp broken end of the broom handle at his throat, puncturing the skin slightly as the turian heaved in pants, eyes rolling madly. He shook as he fought to not plunge the stake into that exposed throat.

"Marc, stop! Let him up. Jeezus, I said let him up!" Hands yanked at him, pulling him off the vorcha, whose frightened countenance turned to him as the creature scrambled up and fled down the narrow alleyway. The blood haze left his vision and he blinked down into the human's furious brown eyes, "The fuck did you do that for? Now he's gonna go get the Authority and I ain't got a permit. You have any idea how much it costs to bribe those sanctimonious bastards? What the hell were you thinking?"

Marcus shrunk back away from the small human, knowing full well what he was thinking. Eliminate the threat, which before his little nature walk, before...other things had happened, would have meant gentler methods, but now, with so little control, had nearly made him murder a man in this very public market. In a daze, he felt a fistful of credits being pressed to his hand and him being shoved out into the street by none too gentle hands at his back, his now former boss yelling, "You know what, just get the fuck out of here! Just git! And don't come back around if you know what's good for you!"

He turned at the theatrically loud shouting with a sinking heart and took in the terrified look on the human's face, under the mock rage and was humbled by the compassion he saw in the man's eyes. How many times had this happened now? When was he going to learn? The human flapped his arms at him, "Go on! Git!"

He ran, blindly, down streets, half hunched over, ignoring the stares of people who'd watched his little episode. His run slowed to a walk several streets away, far enough away where the Authority probably wouldn't pursue, if they even knew what he looked like. He doubted the vorcha was articulate enough to describe him to any reasonable degree. Thoughts crowded him, filling him with guilt over what he'd done, with this job and the last dozen or so.

He'd come to Omega to lay low and learn, quietly ascertain the whereabouts of his target. Well, he'd been anything but quiet since he'd gotten here and trouble had followed him from job to job. It was amazing to him that he'd gotten this far, with all his incompetent fumbles. That he hadn't been arrested or blackbagged yet. Maybe they figured he was too stupid to bother with. At this moment, he was inclined to agree.

"Killer." A low feminine voice from an alleyway to the side startled him out of his reverie and he whirled to see a slim figure in a cloak, leaning nonchalantly against a brick wall. He drew himself up to his full height and the woman started back in surprise, a slim blue hand coming up to her chest. An asari, then and the woman took a hesitant step toward him and his heart thumped as a fanciful thought occurred to him, but no, this asari was too tall, her skin too blue. And it was his turn to start when her voice drifted to him in hesitant tones, "Archangel...?"

His browplates lifted in shock, of course he'd heard the stories. About a vigilante, turian if the rumors were to be believed, who'd led a team of rabble rousers against the corruption of Omega, who'd paid for that...arrogance with his life as three merc companies united and cornered him, killed him. But that happened well before he was born, three decades ago or so.

The woman straightened her shoulders and said, "No, you're not him. But you are a killer. I can see it in the way you move."

"You don't know anything about me, stranger." He said gruffly, moving to leave only to find his way blocked by the woman's arm. He growled wordlessly at her and she tilted her head back so he could see the smirk playing about her painted lips, the glitter of her eyes in the darkness of her hood.

"I have a...proposition for you. And now that it seems you are without employment or prospects, maybe you'd like to at least consider it." Something about this woman's tone said she was rarely refused and that rankled somewhat. He didn't want to be some woman's tool, but he'd at least hear her out. Because it was true what she'd said, he had little to no prospects left, he'd burned many bridges and was no closer to what he wanted. She seemed pleased at his hesitation and continued, "I need men-"

He snorted and she flashed him a dangerous smile before raising a hand to silence him, "I need...muscle, shall we say? For some heavy...lifting."

_Got alot of furniture to move, lady? _Paulus' voice jeered in the back of his mind and he just kept himself from wincing. That was one thing that being among people again he hated. All his interactions were tainted by what his brother would say if he were here. He overrode that thought with, "Go on."

"I can see that you have no love for our beloved Authority." She waited for him to decry the heresy she'd just spoken and seemed very pleased when it brooked no reaction from him whatsoever. Galactic politics were far from his mind, he really didn't care either way. He had one goal and one goal only. She laid a hand on his arm and he twitched under it in discomfort, "Let's just say, neither of us would be too very put out if someone started making trouble for them, if someone were _already_ making trouble for them."

Marcus thought it through as she spoke. Did he really want to do this? Be a...a hit man? The last month had shown him that he really wasn't suited for anything else, but killing. He scratched his chin thoughtfully as he rolled back on one hip, "I can be trouble."

"You know, somehow I believe it." She looked him up and down appreciatively and he glared at her base attempt at manipulation and she relented with a wave of her hand, "So, handsome, what's your name?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and ground out, "Marc."

She grinned wickedly, "Yes, you are. Well, Marc, I do believe we can do business. This chit will access a hidden account that I'll transfer credits into after every successful assignment. Try to be frugal if you don't want to alert the Authority. Sudden large purchases will not go unnoticed."

"What do I call you?" He stepped toward her, crowding her and she took a half step back, reaching reflexively for what he was sure was a gun of some sort, but he didn't relent, nor act overtly hostile in any way.

"Call me Omega-" She started but he cut her off by grabbing her chin in one hand, hard, but not hard enough to bruise, just enough to trap her in his fingers. He swept back her hood and found himself looking into a famous countenance, one that used to grab quite a bit of attention on the newsfeeds when he was just a child, before Unification. Its cold beauty hadn't changed much, other than the dark circles under her eyes, the tension in her jaw.

"Aria." Her eyes flashed rage even as they swam with haunted thoughts and he held her still by her chin. He was not that surprised, he found, in fact the thought had probably been swimming around the back of his mind already, unrecognized til now.

Her voice seethed as it came out from between clenched teeth, "There was a time when I would have had your hand for touching me without my permission."

"And other bits I'm sure." He let her go and she rubbed her jaw. Marcus stood back and said in low tones, "What's the going rate for...cleaning?"

"10K a head, more if that head is attached to a very important neck." Aria flashed hand signals into the shadows, no doubt to placate whoever it was she had there to watch her back. There were probably a dozen or more weapons trained on him. His skin prickled but he forced his inner survivor to quiet, this exchange was far from friendly, but it wouldn't get nasty. And if it did, he already had half a dozen plans to kill her and abscond before they could down him. He'd take a bullet, maybe two, nothing serious, of that he was confident.

"Halve that. I don't need much." Indeed, everything here still seemed a luxury to him. Everything from environmental controls to the corner store where he could just walk in and purchase food any time he wanted.

She watched him warily and he watched her back with equal intensity, waiting for the inevitable question to follow. Aria appraised him again, a new respect in her eyes as she took in how calmly he assessed the situation._ Now she knows I'm not just a brute, how exactly does that change the deal? _She laughed, short and bitter, "And? What do you want then?"

He took a deep breath, it was all or nothing, this. But nothing else had worked for him so far. This might just be what he needed. Letting the air slowly out, he whispered, "Information."

"Done." She clapped once and pulled her hood up once again to hide her features. She gestured for him to follow and led him to a waiting aircar. Another turian opened the door for them and after closing it behind them, sat in the driver's seat. They sped off into the perennial twilight and she looked out of the window at the transformed station. No longer was it the criminal capital of the galaxy._ They'd_ moved in and cleaned house, literally and figuratively. He saw empty streets free of clutter or pedestrians, there were armed men on virtually every street corner to enforce the strict curfews and there were marching troops on wider boulevards. Afterlife had been completely gutted and turned into a Temple of the Shepard where every citizen was required to go at least once a week for Devotions, mostly an excuse for the Authority to root out insurgents and heretics. He turned at Aria's sigh, and she said in a soft voice, "They've ruined it."

"It's cleaner, at least." He said wryly, at which she snorted derisively.

"I liked it dirty. The one place left in the galaxy where it was still winner take all, where wit and audacity still counted for something."

"Yeah and where extortion, slavery and murder were commonplace, encouraged in fact." He couldn't help a bitter note entering his voice. She shot him an amused look.

"How do I find all the naive ones?" She mused to herself as she watched him from under lowered brows, "No crusading while you're on my payroll."

He frowned at her and she smiled archly as he rumbled, "Who's the first head to roll?"

"Later, pet. For now, just relax and enjoy the scenery."

Marcus leaned back, watching her out of the corner of his eye, "I'm going to need equipment."

"You'll have it." She shot back, as though angry that he thought she'd forget such an important and yet unimportant detail. "Armor, tech, grenades, rifle, whatever."

"I have a rifle."

"Make a list, I'll give you the name of someone who does provisions. Don't bother me with such trivialities."

He hummed, "Why did you come out in the open to recruit one man? You don't know me."

"We've been shadowing you for some time. You were obviously trying to stay hidden, but doing a very poor job of it. Some of my agents were impressed with how...thoroughly you put down some of the people who, um, instigated a...situation. I thought it worth a look, since you seemed to have the devil's own luck avoiding capture." She smirked under her hood, "When I saw you alone in that alley, looking a bit lost, I let my intuition take over. It's rarely wrong."

"You exposed yourself to a potentially hostile and violent threat because you were...curious?" That didn't sound like the aloof and cool sovereign of a thousand worlds in the Terminus systems to him. Or the woman who'd ruthlessly run Omega before then. It was a puzzlement indeed.

"As I said, my intuition is rarely wrong." She hissed as the aircar swept over the Temple, "Oh, they will pay."

Slyly, he said in an amused rumble, "No crusading unless it's your crusade, is that it?"

He was vaguely surprised when she chuckled. And she then turned to look at him fully, with a serious look in her eye, "What's your whole name, Marc?"

He flicked a mandible and stared at her hard before answering, "Marcus Cicero."

She made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, replying in an almost wistful tone, "Not Vakarian, then?"

He wrenched his gaze so he was once again looking out at the city below, eyes fixed on a point that was much safer, much less likely to give away the intense wave of shame and guilt that washed through him, and he was immensely relieved that his voice came out evenly, almost mild, over the sudden pounding of his heart in his hollow chest, "No, not Vakarian."

* * *

He lay back on the too short bed and thought hard about the encounter between himself and the formidable Aria T'Loak. Her voice floated to him from his memory, _You won't see me often, if ever, your marks and their dossiers will be sent to you anonymously. Encoded, of course. The ciphers will arrive separately, hardcopies only. Do not trust a cipher if it comes by omnitool. Your call sign is The Mark. Call it my twisted sense of humor. If you're ever caught, be assured that you'll be dead before you can give them any intel on me or what we're doing._

He snorted, _The Mark, indeed, if she only knew how close to true that was._ He could see the humor in it and his brother's ghost in the back of his mind had howled in mirth when she'd said it. The first cipher had found its way to his door not an hour after she'd dropped him off, so now he waited for a dossier to ping his omnitool. In the mean time, he had nothing to do but stare at the cracks in his ceiling and listen to the gentle rumble of his only friend from his pile of frayed and dirty cushions on the floor.

It still plagued him, the thought of doing Aria's dirty work, but what choice did he have, really? He doubted she'd just let him walk, now that he'd seen her and knew something of her plans. He wondered how Ushal was faring, wondered if he'd found a way through the Shepard's blockade of Rannoch. Apparently, the fanatics had figured out that the geth couldn't be directly threatened for whatever intel they so desperately wanted. Any active geth captured just terminated themselves, usually finding ways to take out its captors while doing so. They couldn't be tortured, not in the conventional sense anyway. And they turned aside any attempts to infiltrate their collective with the ease of a child swatting insects.

That's what Ushal had meant by the geth thinking he wasn't geth when he didn't have the correct authorization codes. The Shepards had tried to write programs that mimicked the way geth behaved so that they could mine data from the servers still connected to the extranet. It had failed spectacularly, those programs often converted and turned back on their masters. So now the only recourse the Shepards had was to threaten the only perceivable weakness the geth had, the quarians.

The blockade was slowly starving the quarians, who hadn't had time to build a viable ecology on their planet as yet. Too large a population, not enough resources. Without supplies from Palaven and the other dextro colonies, eventually the quarians were going to die or surrender. And if they surrendered, the geth were more than likely going to self terminate, which would set the quarians back hundreds of years, if not kill them in a few years. The last few decades of cohabitation among the geth and quarians had made the two races nearly symbiotic, made them nearly one race.

He saluted them their will to not give up, no matter how hopeless it seemed. He hoped that Ushal made it home safely with the telemetry data he'd collected when the Mark II had witnessed the moon over Alchera disappear. Maybe the geth could figure out what was going on with their huge machine brains that thought thoughts that were nearly faster than light.

And now, he had a lead on what he was searching for. He'd given Aria the names of the people he was looking for, one in particular. She hadn't known right then, but she had people, she said, people who were very good at finding things like this out and damned if he didn't find himself trusting her word, just a little. Which led him back to what he was going to have to do to earn it. He winced, killing for a cause he understood, killing for revenge he understood. Killing for credits, why did that seem so...beneath him?

He cursed his own arrogance. He was no better than any of these criminals. To get what he wanted, he'd do almost anything. No, he corrected himself, feeling it lance him with needle like pricks of recrimination, he'd do anything. Marcus rolled onto his side and saw that his companion had awoken and was looking at him with those molten gold eyes that shone with an inner light. He sighed, "What do you think, Caesar? Did I just fuck everything up?"

No opinions from that quarter as the shaggy beast ambled over and rested his great head on Marcus' shoulder, offering comfort to the troubled turian. He stroked the animal's mane absently as he thought aloud, "Aria's not to be trusted. Dealing with her is, well, I want to say, foolhardy at best. This feels like it could very easily turn into a big mistake, if I'm not careful. Trouble is, I seem to have forgotten how to be careful. I don't know how long I can hold out."

Despair caused him to involuntarily draw his legs up and he ground out harshly, mandibles twitching spasmodically, "I have to find her. I have to kill her. And then I won't have to hold on any more."

Caesar watched sagely as the turian clenched his eyes so very tightly shut that surely it pained him and huffed a warm breath into Marcus' face, and sent a thought out into the ether, _He has no anchor, karesh'igal. His mind flutters unfettered with only this obsession for vengeance to hold him here. He will be lost if he does not find a root to cling to._

Silence was his only answer. Not that he really expected an answer, it wasn't for him to demand an answer from those whose purview was so large that his and this boy's actions were obfuscated from the tall ones by the vast difference in their perspectives. That they'd intervened on his behalf more than once was probably more than one could ever ask. Silently, the one the boy called Caesar willed Marcus to sleep, which he did, fitfully as he'd always done.

As he watched the turian slumber, Caesar, for the name was as good as any other, tried to recall the exact moment when duty had turned into fondness. The boy was a cub lost in the woods, but so were they all and despite the horrendous wounds on his spirit, the boy strove, indomitable. Caesar knew that despite the sorrowful words, this small being whose light barely flickered would keep going long past the breaking point.

He'd continued his guise as an animal for far longer than he'd intended, knowing that he couldn't be this boy's anchor. He'd lived for far too long, he knew far too much and that would just taint the boy's own growth, skew his own sense of worth. For as much as he'd discovered in his own journey, he didn't have all the answers. So he'd watch and wait, and hope. And more importantly, hope that hope would be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

They'd come to value her skills over the last few weeks. So much so that she was now a regular part of the ground team, or boarding party, as the situation merited. They especially loved that she could fire a gun while using her biotic abilities. And she fought it, fought the urge to grow fond of these rascals, to start thinking of them as hers, so out of missions, she often retreated to her cabin, where her steady supply of alcohol could assuage the temptation to join them in the mess where they engaged in revelry, flushed with success. She pleaded weakness, and weariness from overextending her powers and they let it pass, though they offered every time. Friendly overtures that went beyond the clumsy attempts to get into her pants and they nearly undid her every time. But no, she wouldn't add her heap of problems onto theirs. Hers were big, dangerous predator shaped problems, it would only end badly to let them in too close. She could be that much of a friend to them.

Away from them, she could pretend to not ache to belong, could muddy her thoughts with booze until sleep claimed her. It was a long standing ritual. Three, sometimes four stims a day, then a bottle of liquor to sing her to sleep at night with its spicy siren song. She wondered if they'd noticed or not. Probably not, they had their own problems to occupy themselves with. She was aware that she was fast becoming an addict, but as long as she remained a highly functional one, she hardly saw that it mattered.

It was getting harder though, as she listened to the laughter of the men float through the walls of her quarters. It was like something within her wanted to reach out, feel, taste, experience other people and their stories. With a shudder, she realized that it was probably part of that thing she was trying so hard to ignore. The sleeping giant that roosted so inconveniently in her subconscious. Or maybe she was just being melodramatic and she was just lonely._ Yeah, that could be it_, her mind whispered as she took another swig of the fiery liquor, _just another poor, pathetic little girl who misses her mommy._

_Goddess, if it was only that,_ she thought to herself, that would make things so much easier. Then her fears could at least be understood, solid, and reassuringly banal and ordinary, not huge uncanny nightmares with incomprehensible shapes and monstrous sounds barely out of hearing.

Her omnitool pinged, distracting her from unsettling thoughts, a message crawling across the orange screen, '_Drinking alone again?'_

It had to be Bau, he was the only one here with such insight. Plus, she had a feeling that he read the manifests for anything that was brought onto the ship. She could only imagine what he'd thought when he'd read: 36 pc cargo container Thessian bourbon.

She replied shortly,_ 'Got a lot of things on my mind. Just need some time away from all that testosterone.'_

_'I see',_ read the next message, followed by, '_you know, there are many ears here to listen if you need them. My own set of aural canals are especially receptive.'_

_'Bau, I'm tired and I have a headache.'_

The message that came back had her snorting quietly with laughter,_ 'Females and their headaches. It's not like I'm asking for coitus.'_

_'Pfft, you wouldn't know what to do with me if you had me, silly salarian.'_

_'I think you'd be surprised,' _how he seemed to text something so..._archly, _she didn't know and it made her grin. _'Let me join you and you just might find out.'_

She knew the offer was not genuine, but the thought of companionship was enticing. Just someone to sit with, even if the talk was small and inconsequential. Giving in to temptation, she messaged, '_Alright, you've won me over with your scandalous flirtation. Come make sweet, sweet love to me, stud.'_

_'Saved...and archived.' _There was a quiet knock on her door and she waved her omnitool to unlock it. The salarian sauntered in and plopped down next to her where she sat against a wall and she handed him the bottle wordlessly and he took a large pull of it, wiping his mouth after with the back of his hand. He looked at the booze thoughtfully, commenting, "Probably wasted on me. My faster metabolism makes it impossible to stay inebriated for any length of time. Probably drink this whole thing and only feel buzzed for maybe half an hour. Followed by a rather lengthy trip to the head."

She eyed him askance, taking the bottle back and after taking a swig herself, said, "That's rough, buddy."

"Not so bad. Means I metabolize poisons faster, salarian livers are very efficient."

She snickered, "My step-dad used to say that in his cycle-"

Susan cut off that thought with a frown, she didn't want to think of them and took a hard pull from the bottle that left her gasping. She handed the booze to Bau, who was watching her wheeze and cough with passive interest. Her head was swimming so she laid it back against the cool bulkhead. Bau patted her forearm where it rubbed against his and sighed, "Hard to think of the ones who are gone, isn't it?"

She felt her throat close in grief and tears prickle at her eyes and sniffed them back conscientiously, glancing at Bau to see if he was just humoring her and was gratified to see only compassion in his large oval eyes. She closed her eyes and listened for falseness, and found none, not that this particular sense of hers was foolproof, but it was often right and so she decided to let go, just a little, just to relieve the pressure a tiny bit. She looked back at him, tilting her head and she felt a hot tear trace a fiery path down her cool cheek, "It would help if I knew where they were. If they were even alive."

Bau's eyes darkened slightly as he seemed to look inward, "Maybe...or maybe they don't want to be found. Maybe by being hidden from you, they are protecting you somehow."

She snorted, she knew that wasn't the case with her mother, but Javik? That mean son of a bitch would go down fighting. Then with an odd twist, her mind started thinking about it another way. If they were hiding, Javik and her two sisters, then they were most likely hiding from the Shepards, not her. There had been no reports of kidnappings in over four months now, and the ones who'd managed to escape had dropped off the radar of both sides as well. How they accomplished that was a wonder in and of itself. Not even the Shadow Broker knew their whereabouts. The Shepards always crowed when they'd captured one of their 'apostles', but not a peep for four months.

How do six very famous, very well known personages just disappear? Well, other than the two that had already disappeared. No one knew where the pilot, Moreau and his AI went. But Alenko, Tali, Wrex, and Liara were well and truly caught in their spider's web. The fanatics shouted it at the top of their lungs in their Temples, or so she's been told. Words like 'living martyrs' drifted to her in the reports she received from her contacts on the inside and she shuddered violently at the thought of what might be happening to them out there.

"Susan?" He seemed alarmed at her tiny convulsion and she patted his hand in reassurance. He watched her solemnly as she drank deeply, the thoughts a little quieter now that the haze of alcohol induced lassitude began to flow into her limbs.

"No worries, Bau. Just thinkin'." Impulsively, she leaned her head onto his shoulder, noting that it wasn't at all as bony as she'd thought it'd be. A good shoulder to cry on if she ever had the need. She slurred slightly as she queried, "How 'bout you, Mr. Bau? Got anyone out there you're missing?"

"More than I'd care to count. And one in particular..." He drifted off.

"Ooooh, sounds like maybe you got a girl out there." She cajoled lightly.

He laughed, "Something like that. Ironic, really. I spent so much time chasing her and now I spend most of my time trying to elude her..."

"Ah, the plot thickens. Is this the one you're 'protecting'?" She slid sideways into his lap, her fingers coming up to frame the word in quotation marks as her head settled on his thighs.

"You know, you really should be too drunk to be this insightful after imbibing that much bourbon." He looked down into her face with calm mirth, lips stretched in a small smile that belied the flash of pain in his eyes. Then he stared off into the distance, "It's complicated."

"Tell me about it." She snorted, nestling and thinking to herself that it really was pleasant to be talking to someone, though this was venturing into dangerous territory, for both of them it seemed. "It's always complicated."

"Yes, so it seems. You know what's really endearingly irritating about her? She's very, very good at finding me. Almost better than I was at finding her. I think I showed her one too many of my tricks." They hummed amusement in unison, though she wasn't in on the particulars, this did seem humorous. "I'm getting old now and it's getting harder to run."

"So this is a old/young thing? She's asari, huh?" She smiled up at him knowingly and he shook his head down at her, sadly.

"No, and I'm no lecher, so you can get the thought that I might molest you in your compromised state out of that pretty little head."

She slapped his thigh in mock consternation, "I wasn't thinking that at all until you said something. I'm going to have to lock my door, maybe triple encode it. Perverted salarians, what_ is_ the galaxy coming to?"

He laughed and took her bottle away from her, setting it on the floor out of her reach. It was probably a good thing, she was starting to get all...spinny and embarrassingly enough, she felt her head tentacles start to loosen from their stiffly held position. And she was too far gone to stop it and Bau made a noise of intrigue in his throat, "How interesting. I wasn't aware they moved, thought maybe they had a cartilaginous structure."

"Make it a little difficult to sleep, wouldn't it? And yes, they move." She flushed deeply.

"Why do you feel embarrassment?" He prodded a tentacle with a finger and she huffed.

"Cuz it's rather crude, or considered so. Think of it like scratching yourself in public, um, intimately. And any well bred asari would never scratch themselves in public."

"I can see where it would make it difficult to sleep on such a rigid point. I wonder how turians do it?"

_Very well, actually,_ but she kept the lewd thought to herself and yawned, replying, "What? Sleep? On their side, with a pillow between cheek and cowl."

"Oh really." Bau drawled and she shot him a look that shut down any more questions as to how intimately she knew that. So, he softened his tone and said, "And you? No boys chasing you?"

Her heart thumped painfully and she turned away from him on her side and listened to herself say, "There was one."

The salarian smoothed her tentacles back soothingly and it was so easy to forget that she didn't know this man any more than she'd known Paulus, _not true, you heard him in the meld, he was true and brave and beautiful, _her inner cautionary voice warned that she'd always trusted too easily, that Bau was a mercenary, they were all mercenaries. She used to hunt mercenaries, back before things had gone ass over tits, as Massani would say, she reminded herself that Massani had been a merc, before the Reaper War, that his call sign was The Mercenary.

And this particular mercenary that was comforting her with one warm hand was no ordinary mercenary, she didn't know what he was, was too drunk to try to puzzle it out, she just heard the genuine note of kindness in his voice as he said softly, "Gone?"

"Gone." She agreed and wiped tears away angrily, smearing her makeup hideously, she was sure. She hadn't cried in ages, that she felt the need now was beyond ridiculous and she told herself that sternly, "I didn't love him, I didn't know him long enough for that. But I think...I think..."

She bit her lower lip as the tears flowed freely now, soaking the underarmor over Bau's knees and she whispered, "...I think I would have."

And they didn't speak any more that night and she passed out feeling a little less alone in the darkness.

* * *

The stims coursed through her veins, making all her senses sharp, slowing time to a crawl as the last Shepard Operative fell under her assault. She realized how heavily she was breathing as her adrenaline levels balanced out. She heard Simp call, "All clear. Everyone on loot duty. We're scuttling this barge in twenty. Being this close to Omega makes me a mite jumpy."

Susan bumped fists with her team mates, fielding their congratulatory catcalls with aplomb, tossing a few lewd remarks right back at them. This part was always easy, the fighting, the shooting, she could let herself feel like one of them and she relished it every chance she got, because she knew as soon as they were back on the 'Rigger, the walls would come back up and she'd be hiding again. Soon enough though, she would be moving on. There was a reason they were this far into Shepard space, this close to their main base at Omega. There was pain mixed with relief as she thought about her inevitable departure.

Despite herself, she'd come to see these mercs as something like friends and smiled as Bau walked up alongside her, taking in her half crazed look with raised brows, but his tone came out friendly enough, playful even, "Three days and then you'll finally be rid of us."

She punched him playfully in the arm, "Aw, c'mon. I'll miss you guys, you know that."

Their part in this venture finished, they went to stand near the airlock, watching the men as they ran back and forth with things they'd found of value clutched in their hands. Bau hummed in amusement at their antics and said, "I'll be moving on soon, too. I can feel eyes on the back of my neck."

She studied his countenance and only found weary acceptance there, "She's moving in, huh?"

He smiled at her, flashing brilliant teeth, looking much younger for just a moment, "I think I'm developing a...sixth sense for these things. Would have been more useful in my former career."

She laughed, "Which was?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "I was a Spectre once, before...all this, of course. The ones who didn't turn found themselves under heavy suspicion. There had been a few deaths, mostly related to people trying to capture us, thinking we had all 'gone bad'. The council had no choice really but to disband the corps and I was out of a job, without even my pension."

"You seem less than...bitter about it." She queried with interest. A former Spectre working as a mercenary, possibly also a Shadow Broker agent? Intriguing to say the least.

"Oh, before the Reaper War, I'd seen some things, not pleasant, been ordered many times to act against my own beliefs. Having unlimited powers with no culpability sounds a lot more fun than it actually was. I was fast losing my faith in that system and then..." He sighed deeply and flashed her another smile, "Then, I tried to catch a thief."

Susan smiled back, stroking her chin lightly with her gloved fingers, "And now the thief is trying to catch the thief-catcher. You've lead a very interesting life, Bau. Why don't you let her catch you?"

"Where's the fun in that? Anyway, she's still young and I'm well past the normal expiration date. Besides, now I have a real assignment, one that will take me to places I'd really rather she didn't follow." Bau shrugged, as if to say_, as if I could stop her_ and she smiled into her hand as Simp ran past them with a full bag of loot , grinning foolishly at the pair as he did. Bau laughed, "I'm sad to say that I'm going to miss these men, as well."

"They do grow on you."

"Indeed, not unlike certain fungi. When I was on the 'right' side of the law, things were so black and white, I'd killed men like these with little to no thought. Let alone regrets."

Susan nodded, she'd done the same, but had there been a Simp among them, or an Errol? She didn't know and that seemed tragic to her now. She nodded as her mind reached a startling revelation, "They're men, just men."

"Flawed and imperfect. And these men, they're better than most, Susan." He tossed her an unreadable look and she pondered what exactly he meant by that.

"You think I'm discounting them because they're mercs."

His eyes pierced her and he said with a bland expression, "Aren't you?"

Susan thought long and hard about it, and eventually nodded, "Perhaps, but there's more to than that. They have a simpler life here on the margins, why burden them with the horrible things I know?"

"So, this self imposed isolation is for their sake?" He hummed to himself in thought, "I'm not the only one doing some 'protecting', hmm?"

They stood in silence for a bit, then the salarian reached a hand out to squeeze her shoulder, "You're going to have to let someone in someday, Susan T'soni."

That he knew who she was was somehow not as surprising as she'd thought it'd be and she flashed him a wicked grin and made a subtle sign with her hand and he knew the countersign. He was an agent. She stepped closer to him and put her arms around his waist, "I'm The Bard."

"I'm The Repentant." She'd heard the name, it had appeared on her reports from time to time and now she knew where he was going and it pained her deeply. She hugged him tighter and felt his arms come up to do the same. It almost felt like they were two children huddled together in the dark against the fear of what tomorrow would bring.

"Oooo, Bau you sneaky old devil, I didn't know you had it in you!" Martin's voice catcalled from the sidelines and the pair turned to see that they gained an audience.

Errol cocked a hip and threw his arm around the human's shoulders, "I think he'd rather she had it in her."

Laughter filled the area, followed by hoots and whistles and Susan made faces at the men who crowded past them into the airlock and on impulse, she made sure they were all watching as she stood on tiptoe and kissed the salarian full on the mouth, much to his surprise. More yelling and laughter ensued as Bau blushed fiercely, the skin around his eyes darkening to an almost alarming shade of purple. She patted him apologetically and sauntered into the airlock and he followed, dazedly.

Three days later and she stepped onto the station, all her meager belongings in one carryall. Behind her, the mercs pretending to be common merchants were setting up their booth on the docks, along with many other ships doing much the same. One thing that never changed was that the trade must flow, commerce couldn't be halted and even the Shepards weren't stupid enough to try.

Simp sidled up to her and smiled toothily, "Well, we got you here. We'll be here a week if you change your mind. Here's all the ident you need to get past the checkpoints and customs."

She took the proffered package with a gracious nod, "Thanks, Simp. Don't let your boys get into too much trouble, aye?"

Her use of the human colloquialism had him grinning, "Oh, aye. As you said. Just enough trouble to be fun."

"Okay, you pirate, just enough then." She looked behind them and saw that the men were watching, but she'd said her goodbyes already. The krogan, Weyrloc Rahz,who'd warmed up to her considerably since the day they'd first met gave a little wave, which made her smile. Bau leaned nonchalantly on a wall near them, a carryall much like hers on the ground at his feet and she exchanged a thin lipped smirk with him. Her hands moved subtly, _Be safe._

_You, too,_ came the reply. She clapped Simp on the shoulder and made sure her hooked staff emblem was prominently displayed on her jacket, a necessary contrivance that never failed to make her cringe inwardly and she made her way deeper into the enemy's very home, one step closer to finding what was taken.


	5. Chapter 5

It was the meticulousness of it all that he enjoyed, if enjoyment could be found in such butchery. The stalk, the endless planning and the eventual kill; all these things combined made him feel a little like his old self, made him feel like maybe he could claw his way out of the dark somehow. Though he knew in his heart that that was folly, but it was nice to dream sometimes, while he was awake anyway. The visions that tortured him while he was asleep, that was another matter entirely and he often pushed himself to the threshold and beyond to avoid sleeping for any length of time.

Marcus shook himself free of those thoughts as he lined up his shot. One shot, that's all he allowed himself. One simple shot with this one very old weapon. He went out of his way to plan things so that this ancient rifle could do the job. Find times when his marks were at their least wary, unarmored and unguarded. It was foolishly sentimental to keep this old Viper, but even as he admired the new models of sniper rifle, he couldn't bring himself to buy one, replace the one at his side that had saved his life countless times on that frozen world so far from here. It was a part of him, an extension of his soul.

The target's head swam into focus, a soldier for once he saw with deep satisfaction. He had been getting tired of offing politicians and clergymen. He took in the rank with a sweeping motion of his scope. A centurion in the First Holy Cohort, a very big fish indeed. The man was kneeling down for his daily devotions, completely oblivious to the turian who hung upside down from a rooftop almost a whole city block away. This was the only viable angle to shoot through the cloister's tiny window. The straps that held him up creaked as Marcus readied himself, glad that the still air of this station couldn't jar him with a sudden breeze.

He found that place in his mind, the stillness and let it settle over him, slowing his steady breathing, he focused on that one point at the end of his barrel and he envisioned himself as the man he was about to kill, to the point where his every movement became predictable. Their chests rose and fell as one, he fancied their heartbeats in sync as well and with a sigh, squeezed the trigger lovingly. The harsh report resounded in his ears and his scope filled with red and he let himself droop in his sudden exhaustion, arms hanging limply toward the street far below, far enough away that anyone looking up to see what the noise was all about, wouldn't be able to spot him among the edifices.

_All that training, all those words about higher ideals and I'm nothing better than an assassin._ It should have been a bitter thought, but it provoked nothing from his quiescent conscience. With a grunt of effort, he lifted himself up onto the jutting cornice with hardly a thought to the plummeting depths below. He had no fear of falling, the rooftops had become his world of late. He'd made it a priority to know them intimately, along with the station's inner bowels, a haphazard tangle of tunnels and ducts, drainage ditches and sewage pipes. The old Omega was still there, buried under the clean surface, shady deals and warrens of criminals lived in the deep places. Wouldn't Aria be so glad to know? That old harridan probably already did.

He abseiled down the side of the metal building swiftly, just as the first sirens started wailing a block away. It wouldn't take a genius to trace the trajectory of that bullet and he planned on being well away before they even thought to investigate. He took off his helmet and packed it, along with the rifle and sauntered out of the alley he'd dropped into, just another turian in a sea of regular people, his blue armor commonplace in this section of town. What was absent, but would only catch a few glances and frowns, was the lack of symbols on that armor, one in particular which he refused to wear, even as a disguise.

Marcus flagged down a cab and gave the driver directions to his hotel, which coincidentally took him by the scene of his crime. The Authority was out in force, their usually efficient policing force scrambling about in confusion and he kept his face carefully blank, but smiled on the inside as they brought the body out on a stretcher, conspicuously lacking a head under the thin white sheet they'd covered him with.

He flipped open his omnitool and typed, '_Confirmed.'_

_'Acknowledged.' _Came the reply in short order. He leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes, weary to the bone. Maybe this one was big enough to earn the intel he needed, maybe he could finally pursue his real target instead of wasting his time here. _But it's not really a waste, is it? You enjoy it._

He didn't deny the voice of his personal demon. Or the fear that it was right in its surmise. Aria had to know he was getting anxious, that she couldn't just keep stringing him along with hints and tidbits and expect him to kill for her forever. But maybe she did, maybe she'd never give him what he needed. He clenched his fists as the familiar anger threatened to swamp his senses. If she intended that, then she'd soon find that a sniper rifle had enough power to go through _two _targets.

He wrestled himself back under control just as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of his abode and paid the man twice what was on the meter, the other half was the standard fee for forgetfulness. The lobby was deserted as usual, the volus at the counter didn't even look up from his terminal as the turian walked by and up the stairs. He'd have to move again soon, just in case, but there was no shortage of these kind of establishments, the only risk was in the actual moving, when his furry friend was out in the open and could garner some attention for his very unusual appearance. Not that he'd been able to keep the animal closeted. Caesar found ways out and Marcus suspected he'd discovered how to open the door somehow, though how he got back in was another mystery.

The beast could be suspiciously canny, when he wanted. Like now, as Marcus opened his door and breathed deep, he swore he smelled...grass and the slightly mildewy scent of fallen leaves. Mystifying...he shook his head at the animal, who snoozed in the corner as always. He set his bag down and opened his small refridgeration unit, pulling out some food, fresh. If he never had to eat nutrient paste in his life again, it would be too soon. Caesar's eyes opened and he lifted his head, licking his muzzle with a contented grumble. Marcus eyed him shiftily, "You've been out again."

Caesar wisely said nothing, just yawned hugely and Marcus threw him some of the coldcuts on his plate, amused when they were snatched out of the air deftly by his snapping maw. "One of these days, you're going to lead trouble to our door. Or someone will think you'll make a good rug or coat and then poof, you're meat on the menu at the corner sausage stand while other furry bits of you adorn some high town lady's painted derriere."

His cautionary tales fell on deaf ears, ears that flicked at him disinterestedly even as Caesar settled back down for a nap, "I should have left you on that planet."

Those golden eyes said, as they rolled to him lazily, _You don't mean that._

"No, I don't mean that. Who'd listen to my mad ramblings then?"

_He's not listening, you're rambling to yourself, _Paulus cajoled in the back of his mind, making him start and swat at his ear helplessly. Caesar perked his ears at the sound of his convulsion, but this wasn't the first time this had happened and Marcus lamented that it probably wouldn't be the last as his brother's ghost spoke again, _His blood was fine red mist on the air, wasn't it? Do you think her head will make a pretty blue mist? If you ever find her, that is?_

Marcus whispered, "I'm trying, Paulus. Please."

_I think it will. Or maybe you'd like to get close and personal so you can see the light go out, feel the heart stop. Your heart. _But Paulus had never been vicious before he died, maybe dying had made him cruel and cold, cold as his body that lay on frigid Alchera. _That's right, I'm cold, so cold and it's her fault. You haven't found her yet and it's your fault I'm cold-_

_"_Stop! Just-please, I can't-"

_Just like before? When you broke your promise? So easily, too, you begged to be her toy._

"I was trying to save you! Always trying to save you-" His brother was laughing, his once warm voice harsh with scorn at how effective that had been and Marcus pummeled the sides of his head to try to shut it out, but how do you silence your own damned demons? A low moan escaped his clenched mouth, the only outward manifestation of his inner howling.

A noise intruded and he slowly became aware of it, latched onto it desperately to push back the memories, the loathing, and the helplessness and opened the commlink, grinding out over his harsh breathing, "Yes?"

"We need to meet." Aria, always Aria and he shoved down the sudden wave of rage at his benefactor.

"Where?"

"I'm coming to you. Stay there." What did she mean, she was coming here? And he'd had just enough time to regain some sense of equilibrium and start thinking about where to hide Caesar when his door buzzed. He let her in with a sullen expression on his face, taking in her darting eyes and flushed cheeks. She sat on the edge of his bed and crossed her long legs before turning to him, "That was a fine job you did back there. But an opportunity has fallen in my lap. Something...delicious."

And then she turned at a chuffing noise and found herself inches from a hairy face with a slavering black rimmed mouth filled with long dagger like teeth and he watched her blanch and freeze with no small amount of amusement. He was however, surprised at how quickly she regained her composure and she shot him a questioning look and he dropped his hand onto Caesar's head, "Back, Caesar, give her some space."

But as always the animal did only what he wanted and dropped his massive head into her lap and she raised her brows at the beast's easy familiarity. Marcus smirked, "Are you going to give him the 'There was a time' speech? Not sure it will work on him."

She shot him a glare but didn't quite dare to shove the animal's head off her lap, even as he shed long white hairs onto her expensive clothes. Distastefully, she continued, "I came with a proposal, if you're not interested in taking me seriously, I can take my intel elsewhere."

"I'm listening, even though you still owe me for this last one." He leaned on his dresser and crossed his arms, watching her try to ignore the beast in her lap was definitely tugging at his mandibles.

"One word, requisitions." She smiled at him deviously. He looked at her blankly, his disinterest clear. She grumbled something about his lack of vision and continued, "You know why they wanted Omega? Same reason everyone wants Omega. Because it's a major relay hub. They still need to ship supplies across Shepard space because, and I have a really strong suspicion about this, only their military vessels have that 'jump drive', no matter that they try to shroud it in mystical bull shit with all their miracle talk. Not for all the tech in the galaxy are you going to keep your troops fed and supplied without the relays. Trade must flow and I have people in key positions to take over their entire requisitions network if this one, simple, lynchpin is removed."

The idea did intrigue him, even though his mind had already popped many holes in her plan, but he didn't care enough to clue her in. He let the silence drag on for several seconds as she fairly shook with eagerness over there, and he finally broke the stillness with, "The name of this unfortunate lynchpin?"

'Ordun Bahka, krogan, he's coming in on a cruiser in two days to oversee the construction of a dispensary, I have his dossier here." She handed him a sheaf of paper. She must have been very excited if she wanted to deliver this in person, and hardcopy no less, not even encrypted. He raised a brow as he flipped through it, noting many interesting projects this man was supposedly involved in, top end stuff, lots of classified reports with bits blacked out. And the language around it was ominous indeed. Flicking his eyes to her, he found that she was staring at him so intently that she probably didn't even realize that her hand had found its way onto Caesar's head, stroking the soft fur from nose to mane.

Something wasn't adding up, "Why would this Bahka come here to oversee a project that has nothing to do with their military? It says this dispensary is for the distribution of medigel to the general populace of the station."

"Who cares? All that matters is that he'll be within easy reach." She was obviously focused only on what she wanted, didn't see the bigger picture, or didn't care. Either way, it didn't matter, this was big enough to warrant a hefty return and he pinned her with a look.

"I do this, you come through on your end, Aria."

She lifted her head regally, looking every bit the monarch and twisted her lips in a slight sneer, "You don't dictate terms to me. You don't think it's fair, find her yourself."

A growl rose unbidden in his chest and she returned his hard stare with one of her own. He fought for control, palms sweaty, hands twitching and Caesar echoed his growl with one of his own, a deeper rolling reverberation that snapped him out of his reverie. Marcus blinked, he was no animal and yet hadn't he just envisioned sinking his talons deep into her throat or those blue orbs that looked at him with such haughty disdain? He took a deep, shuddering breath and waited for whatever seemed to be rolling around in her thoughts to come out of her mouth.

Aria seemed pleased at his obeisance and leaned back onto his bed on one elbow, her voice oily with reason, "It's your own fault, you know. I hadn't realized how very good you were. Can you blame me for wanting to keep you? I'll tell you what, you do this and you do it how I want, I'll give you what intel I have, everything and I'll cut you loose."

Marcus straightened up abruptly, "You know where she is?"

"Let's just say, I know what she'd doing and why it's been hard to pinpoint where she's been and I have a really big lead on how to find her." He took a step toward her helplessly and she reveled in the power she had over him. It was bitterly obvious that he was a tool in her hand and he could hear Paulus chuckling in the back of his mind, laughing at him and his very laughable illusions of self control. She reached out a hand and he let her pull him to his knees next to her, and she leaned in to look at his face, which was bleakly empty.

He ducked his head in submission, "What do you have in mind?"

She laughed, richly, "That's more like it. Now, to business, as much as I love how...surgical...your strikes are, I think it's time to...how shall I put this...Send a message."

* * *

Two whole days of prep and it still didn't feel like enough. New armor, a ridiculously ostentatious affair of shiny black with blue accents, with the latest shield and cloaking tech money could buy. He'd tested it extensively to find its limits and found it adequate despite its ornamental look. Full complement medi-gel, plus extra. An assault rifle, a pistol, both with all the best mods. And ordinance, lots of ordinance. He had a feeling he was going to need all of it. He was going against a tank of a krogan, battle hardened if his profile was accurate, canny and smart and he was doing it without using his usual weapon, and well outside his usual method. No, Aria wanted it loud and messy, and he was told to leave a calling card, he snorted derisively,_ like an amateur._

How did he get himself into this mess? Running a hand over his fringe, he sat on the roof with a sigh, resting his assault rifle on his knee. He put his hand over his face and prayed that Aria kept her side of the bargain, prayed that he lived to use the intel she promised him. Spirits, this plan could go so wrong. What a total cock-up, he'd miscalculated how utterly ruthless she was. He'd much rather have a whole team at his disposal for this venture, but no, she wanted to revive some stupid legend. Fight superstition with superstition, ha.

He screwed up his nerve and breathed deep, it was almost show time. He touched the ancient sniper rifle on his back for comfort. He might not be able to use it, but its presence was comforting nonetheless.

He could hear the low whine of approaching aircars and ducked behind some ductwork to avoid the patrolling drones that swept the roof, activating the cloak for a moment. He held his breath and slowly let it out as the drones hovered and shone their flashlights into all the dark places, eventually leaving unaware of one visitor who definitely planned on wearing out his welcome. He glanced at the building layout on his omnitool just to check all his access points again before moving to the most obvious one, a vent that led down into the dome of the Temple.

Once he'd pried open the vent into the circular chamber open, he moved slowly, almost glacial to avoid making any noise as he reached out and gently set and activated the self tapping climbing pitons in the stone. The small pulleys clipped onto these with cunning little hooks and he threaded the thin, transparent nanosilk rope through it and clipped that to his harness, a contraption that looped around his hips and thighs, allowing easy movement, even with much turning and twisting.

Twelve men, four high-ranking officers of the Shepard Theocracy and their honor guard would soon be below him, completely unaware that an assassin waited in the rafters. All of them would be armed, but would they be wary? He was betting his life on a certain complacence they might be feeling in the 'safety' implied by being in the very heart of their sovereignty. He would have to take them fast, the guards first, then the centurions, wounded and incapacitated, but not dead. There had to be witnesses. Then, and he took a shaky breath, the krogan, who was going to be the most challenging by far.

He listened as their meeting started, he didn't bother trying to make out what they were saying, his mind focused on the task before him only. He rested the barrel of his pistol on his forehead and sent a prayer to his brother, not the cackling goblin in his head, but the real Paulus, wherever he was, begging forgiveness should he fail. He pulled on the visor Aria had supplied him for this mission and winced as its blue light tainted his surroundings in a bloody wash. He noted the enemy positions, memorizing their patterns and let himself fall backwards with a sigh.

The rope hissed softly as he descended and his arms drifted out almost lazily, weapons finding targets with uncanny accuracy and the guards dropped in seconds, their shouted alarms ringing out, not realizing they were already dead, tumbling to the floor like so much meat. Next, he used the natural spin firing his guns put him in to fling flashbangs into the remaining men. He pinpointed the shambling bulk of his target and tossed a sticky, he doubted very much the explosive would even put a dent in the monster, but any chance to delay the krogan's charge while he dealt with the rest was to be grabbed at greedily.

He allowed himself a small smile as it worked, but now he had another problem. Bullets were pinging off his shields where he hung in the center of the cathedral. He calculated his options and decided to abandon his escape route and find another. He turned his body midair until he was upright and disengaged the harness, dropping lightly behind the front row pews. He rolled four canisters of tear gas into the assemblage and dropped to his side on the floor, tracking targets in the noxious cloud. His bullets found ankles and knees and the thump of four bodies on the ground heralded his success at incapacitating the centurions. Now for the part he'd been dreading.

Marcus stood and pointed his rifle at the krogan, who had shrugged off the bomb and now turned to face his lone assailant. He stood fast to take a vicious shotgun blast that bled away all of his shields and dodged sideways to avoid the follow up, but got hit some of the scattershot regardless. He hissed as he felt the lead bite deep and blood started running down his sides. He pumped his medigel dispenser with his free hand and it flooded him with welcome relief. He danced around more shots until the krogan was clearly agitated at not killing his agile opponent, at not even being able to hit him with the full brunt of his weaponry. Marcus then shot at Bahka, just to provoke him into doing something foolish and the giant roared and set his feet, readying a charge. Marcus tensed, the timing had to be perfect. No way could he stand against this krogan in a slugfest, hand to hand had never been his strong point.

The ground shook as the monster flew at him in a lightning fast stampede and Marcus crouched and leapt explosively straight up in the air, his leg muscles burning from the effort and reached out as the krogan ran beneath him and grabbed the edge of his armor covered hump, letting his own falling momentum make them both tumble to the ground. On his back, his mark was less of a threat, almost ungainly in fact as he tried to regain his feet by rocking back and forth. Marcus wasn't about to let that happen and swiftly pivoted on his knees to pin the krogan under his body, getting punched viciously and repeatedly in the face as he did so. He tasted blood and that awakened his feral side with a vengeance. It uncoiled in his belly like it had a life of its own, gleeful.

A haze fell over his vision and he found his knife in his hands, something in him shutting off as he proceeded to saw at the juncture between flesh and browplate. The krogan bucked and roared beneath him, tried to push the determined turian away and Marcus slammed his elbows into the craggy face below him with devastating blows until the giant fell back, dazed. Marcus shook slightly as he looked down into the pain-filled eyes of his adversary. Part of him still wanted to take him apart piece by bloody piece and it took all of his restraint to slide his knife under that chin against the soft throat flesh and pause. The krogan stared up at him and spat, "Heretic, you'll burn for what you've done."

Marcus leaned down until he was inches from the other's face and narrowed his eyes, "So will you."

A smooth almost silken parting of skin as he cut all the way to the spine, severing carotid and secondary carotid and he was suddenly inundated with orange blood, it sprayed his face and ran down his neck into the cowl of his armor. A hot rush that had him grinning wolfishly in exultation. This was what was missing from his cold, impersonally professional kills. A feast of sensation that had his own blood pounding in his veins.

No time to revel in it now. The whole exchange had taken maybe five minutes but the clock was ticking. The many troops outside were bound to come investigate the sound of gunfire and even as he thought it, the doors behind him burst inward and the chase was on. Using his last two packets of medigel, he ran forward, past the huddled centurions who coughed and groaned in the dispersing fog, dropping the tattered piece of parchment that was the icing on this farce of a mission and continued on, thrusting through a door at the other end of the hall that led to the seminary, he had to get back to the roof, then he could wend his way past the alerted sentries far more easily.

He used his knowledge of the seminary's floorplan to lead his pursuers on a merry chase and ducked out of sight in a darker part of the maze. Marcus activated his cloak and dodging the scrambling Authority troops, made his way to an older part of this building, hoping Aria's intel was still good, that they hadn't discovered this bolthole when they'd restructured the place. The wall at the end of this corridor was oddly placed, it didn't match his memory of the outside contour of the building and he knocked the plaster quietly, looking around for any observers. Pleased with the hollow sound, he flicked a mandible.

He took a few steps back and grimaced, knowing what he was about to do would have them hot on his heels again and steeling himself, ran at the wall at a breakneck pace. He burst through the facade into the hidey-hole that in less exalted times had served to smuggle slaves to and fro and a cry went up behind him, and he scrambled between the walls until he reached a junction with a ladder that led up and flung himself up the rungs, fully expecting to feel the bite of a bullet at any time and was a little surprised that he reached the roof with no sounds of pounding feet beneath him.

As soon as he burst through the skylight though, sirens went up around him and he was pinned by spotlights from flying craft and drones alike. He leapt to the next structure and ran, ran as fast as he could whip his tiring body into going. Shots ricocheted off his shields and the rooftops around him as he fled. Several blocks away and they were still chasing him, and he knew he was going to have to go streetside if he wanted any chance. Streetside and then underside as soon as he could manage it. lose them in the tunnels. He found a single story roof and slipped down its side, his flanks heaving from his ordeal. Scrabbling noises above him heralded the arrival of his followers and he put on a burst of speed, forcing his flagging stamina to sustain a sprint down the level streets.

Heads turned and voices picked up the shouts behind him. No hope to go unnoticed, everyone noticed a man running for his life, if only to find out what he was running from and he ducked down alleyways, using every trick in his arsenal to try to elude the bastards. He was being herded, toward capture surely and he snarled as he yanked a manhole cover out of the street and dropped down into the sewage pipes. Waves of stink assaulted him and he put on his helmet as he ran, breathing out a sigh of relief as its internal air kicked on.

He had to be careful in the sewers, a wrong turn meant he could get spaced in a systems purge. He ran around 'safe' corridors until he was sure the men following him were well and truly lost and then made his way to a maintenance hatch, tugging it open with a yank and leaping through, closing it behind him with a decisive snap and he dropped the lockbar in place so that they couldn't follow. He took a moment to breath and stifled a yell as his omnitool beeped, making him almost jump out of his plates. He flipped on the comms, knowing full well who it was and drawled, "What?"

"Not caught yet then?" Aria's voice whispered in his ear, he imagined an irritating smirk on her face and didn't dignify that with a response. After a moment, she sighed and said, "Your data packet is on the way. And I have a gift for you."

"Really." Sarcasm dripped from his tone.

"Yes, I do, but you should really get a move on. They're bound to notice this signal soon and you don't want to make it easy for them to triangulate, do you?" There was a flash on his visor's HUD, an indication of direction.

"You're not leading me into a trap, are you?" Unlikely, but knowing the woman, it could be possible. Nevertheless, he started moving, bounding through tunnels in the semi gloom with his ground-eating stride.

"Oh, ye of little faith. If you got caught, that would put quite the little damper on my plans. And besides, I've grown quite fond of you."

He snorted in disbelief, "Yeah, you just love me. That's why you had me kick the bee hive. That's why I'm running around a sewer."

The blip led him to a street access on the lower dockside and he listened intently before shoving it aside, climbing out slowly and soon he was standing in a deserted alleyway somewhere east of the Temple. He addressed his intangible companion, "Still there?"

"Of course, my agents have eyes on you now. Follow the white rabbit." The indicator on his visor turned into a white dot, a moving white dot in a sea of red. Aria said, "They're moving the VIPs to the ships, out of harm's way, taking several different routes. Each one has a two man contingent of bodyguards."

He nearly groaned aloud, "I have my intel. I'm running for my life, I'll probably have to find the deepest, darkest hole to hide in for the next month at least and you want me to kill another man? You've run out of things to ply me with."

She laughed, "This one isn't for me. Trust me, Marcus, when you see him, it won't be me wanting him dead."

At the mouth of the alleyway, he peered out into the twilight. It was always twilight here. Shadows flitted three at a time through the streets, moving at not quite a run and he scanned for the 'white rabbit'. He saw a human escorted by a drell and a turian dart by and the pale, drawn face turned to him for just a moment and before he consciously recognized it, a soft growl left him and his mouth dried as rage built in his chest. The tousled brown hair, the lopsided tilt of the man's shoulders, all familiar, they all screamed..._Sanders._

"Oh, you beautiful blue bitch."

"You like my present?" She said unctuously. He pulled off his helmet and clipped it to his hip.

"Yesss." He hissed between clenched teeth, his heart pounding an almost painful tattoo in his chest. He pulled his sniper rifle out, relishing the feel of it in his hands. Three shots before overheat, yes he could do this. Activating his cloak, he slipped into the narrow street after his target.

"Mmm, I thought you would. He's my big lead, arrived a week ago. Don't kill him too quickly, he knows where she is."

He tailed the small party as they wove through dockside in a complicated pattern, his voice came out of him soft with genuine gratitude, "Aria...thank you."

There was a pause on the line, before she answered, "Good hunting."

The commlink went dead and he focused on the fleeing human, bringing his weapon to bear. Time slowed as he took aim, Sanders' face turned to him as though he sensed something was amiss and oh, how very right he was. He swung slightly left squeezing off a round, then right and lower, squeezing off another and then lower still and back to center with his last shot. Three shots shot so quickly that they almost sounded like one loud report. Head, head, knee and three men dropped, two of them dead already, the third shouting and squirming away from him.

Marcus advanced, kicking the man's pistol away into the darkness and flipped him onto his back with a nudge, taking in the fact that the human had gotten a bit soft around the middle, that his clothing was fine, better than a simple engineer had ever been able to afford, that the man's face had gone decidedly pasty, no, downright corpse-like as he looked up at the turian with overwhelming panic, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Marcus knelt down next to him and said in a falsely mild tone that belied the incandescent anger that filled him, "Hello, Ralph."

"V-Vakarian, you're a- a-"

"Alive? Yes, I am." Marcus quelled the bloodlust as much as he could and reached down to squeeze Sanders' shattered knee. His piercing scream was sweet music in his ears and he did it again just to hear it once more. His eyes glittered madly as he stared down at his prey, "You know who isn't alive?"

"Pa-P-" His words were cut off by Marcus grabbing his jaw, pinching cruelly, his talons scoring the flesh of the man's cheek.

"No, you don't get to say his name." He picked the man up by his face until they were a scant few inches apart. He could smell the human's fear, it was intoxicating and he wanted nothing more than to torture Ralph for hours if there had been time. But alas, there wasn't, "No, I was going to say...you, Sanders. You're already dead. That pounding in your ears, its not your heart, it's me, knocking at your door."

His knife was in his hand again and he flicked it back and forth before the traitor's wide and terrified gaze, letting the light from the streetlamps catch it in just the right way. He placed the tip of the knife just under the human's eye and said in a low singsong, "Where is she, Ralph? Where is our little Aleia?"

"It was you in the Temple. You killed Bahka." Ralph sputtered, swallowing as he clenched his eyes shut and started muttering, "My soul is pure. The Shepard keep me. My soul is pure. My soul is-aaaAAHAAAAGH!"

He imagined an audible pop as the sharp tip of his knife pierced the eye through the eyelid, viscous fluid leaked down the screaming face onto his hand. Marcus watched with fascination, "Shhhh, enough of that bullshit. Focus, Ralph, look at me with your one remaining eye. You're dead, and so is she. She just doesn't know it yet. Tell me where I can find her and maybe, just maybe I'll let a dead man walk away, for now. Minus his lying, traitorous eyes, of course."

Sanders started weeping, filling his nostrils with a salty smell to mix with the bright copper of human blood and he was sickened at how little it had taken to break the man. Coward, he spat to the side and waited as the man blubbered on the cold ground of the alley. Haltingly, the human spoke, "She's an-an inquisitor now. W-working...shipside..."

Marcus let the knife caress the skin under the other eye, drinking in the terror he was causing like it was a fine wine, "What ship?"

"She's-she's on the Abraxus..." All the tension left the human's body below him. _Once a traitor, always a traitor, _thought Marcus with a sneer. Ralph looked at him with a pitiable glimmer in his weeping eye, "I-I told you. Please, don't kill me..."

A flick of his wrist and Sanders screamed shrilly in agony, writhing on the concrete. Blinded, useless worm of a betrayer. Marcus crouched over him, tasting the air like a predator and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "No second chances for traitors."

And with that, he gripped the human's windpipe in one broad hand and squeezed, and squeezed and squeezed until well after the pulse under his thumb had quieted its roar. He sat back on his heels and watched the flesh cool by degrees, ticking down slowly on the HUD of his visor. He felt the monster in him slink back into the shadows, sated on blood for now, even as it left his spirit painfully disquieted. What was he turning into?

A sudden howl had him whirling to face a familiar, shaggy mountain as it bounded into the light. Realizing he'd raised his knife to combat what his reflexes had told him was a threat, he felt a wash of chagrin, lowering it only to have it drop from his suddenly numb grip as a short shadowy figure, leaning heavily against the wall, stumbled into view. Recognition lanced through him in shocked waves, she was bluer than he recalled, some kind of makeup, but he'd know her if she'd painted herself bright yellow.

The lightly armored female tumbled into his arms as she fell forward, he didn't realize he'd bounded forward and he looked down into her scuffed and bloody face, which shone up at him with bright hope, the type of hope he hadn't felt himself in a year. She lifted a shaking hand and he saw that she was covered in wounds and he mewled deep in his throat, grabbing that hand and holding it in his own. She whispered hoarsely, "Marcus."

He couldn't even speak over the rush of overwhelming shame, just stared, agog.

Her other hand shook as it came up to rest on his shoulder, and her face took on a plaintive look, glancing around and her eyes came back to lock onto his, her mouth dropping open, "...Paulus?"

His knees, suddenly weak, buckled then and collided with the concrete with a loud thud and he watched horror dawn on her face as she took in his condition. What must she be seeing in his face to make her expression freeze in such a way, all stretched and tight? Her eyes fluttered with her weakness, no doubt caused by bloodloss, there was so much of it, it coated her armor with a purple sheen, but there was no mistaking the sudden brightness in her eyes, they glowed with pity, ineffable pity...for him and he shook his head violently as she laid her palm on his cheek, her voice so soft that it nearly went unheard, "Oh...Marcus..."


	6. Chapter 6

She walked down the lane, letting herself be pulled along to the natural ebb and flow of the foot traffic around her. She'd fulfilled her tasks for the day, a data drop here, a sabotage of some manufacturing plant there and now she walked, taking in the feel of the station and its populace. It seemed fear was prevalent here, the Authority keeping its citizens on a knife's edge of paranoia and worry to keep them mostly complacent. They were afraid of being seen as not pious enough, of being taken in the night from their homes, like many of their neighbors. This tyranny was almost textbook perfect, with the sole exception of there being no single tyrant at its head. Instead, they seemed to operate on an individual basis, several leaders with the same agenda. How they avoided the schism that afflicted most religions, she didn't know.

It should be impossible, and yet, like their uncanny and unlimited ability to traverse the cosmos, it was apparently possible. It was frustrating, and maddening. A system that should by all rights collapse on itself was showing itself to be remarkably stable. She needed to know more and her avenues of information acquisition were few and not very good, a trickle of intel when she needed a flood. She hoped other agents were having better luck. All this careful prodding at the edges of this beast would someday have to lead to a direct action from the rest of the galaxy.

In the meantime, this station had the feeling of a boiler about to explode and she feared it would be the regular people who would suffer most when it did. The ones just trying to make ends meet. And though there was no evidence to support her instinct, she felt that someone was pushing it along, instigating it all with some major undertaking.

She eyed the Authority personnel that stood on every street corner, with their badges and saw how their hands clenched and unclenched on their rifles. They felt it, too.

She was just passing a main concourse when the screens of the many monitors that normally displayed propaganda and what little news the Authority let the people see sputtered and shrieked. The tide of people halted, their confused mutterings building to a quiet roar. Every face turned upwards. She watched as the static cleared and every screen lit up with what looked like security footage from inside the Temple. Some men, highranking if their red and gold armor was any indication walked to the center, around a table that had been placed at its nave. Guards stood all around, warily watching the exits as the men they were guarding discussed what seemed to be very important matters, though she couldn't make out a word of it.

Then, a shadow dropped from the dome of the ceiling, inverted, a slow graceful descent and she felt everyone around her jump as the sharp sound of rifle fire filled the air. It was a blur how quickly the unknown assassin moved. Her heart was beating mightily in her chest as she watched him seem to hover there, like he was flying, the turian in black and blue. He danced on the screen, deadly and implacable in his rage. Watching him, an impossible thought occurred to her and when the turian had stilled, crouched above the huge krogan's chest, his face was darkly silhouetted, but for the blaze of an inconceivably blue eye that found the camera and seemed to stare right at her. Her breath caught in her chest.

People in the crowd started milling and she heard the awed whispers of more than a few as they muttered, "Archangel...he's back."

Mutterings grew into shouts as the mob started pushing and arguing around her. Watching the turian on the screen flee from the troops that flooded the hall, seeing the damned familiar way he moved, that smooth rolling gait that ate up the ground so efficiently, quieted every doubt in her. She knew who that was, knew it in her soul. The vid froze, but the damage had been done. A siren flooded the comms across the city, so loud that many yelled in pained protest and the voice of the Authority pealed over their heads, "**All citizens are to return to their homes and await further instruction. This is not a drill. Emergency curfew in effect. All violators will be shot on sight. This is for your own safety."**

Angry were the noises around her now, building to a furor. The Authority shot their automatic weapons in the air and the crowd panicked, shoving and stampeding in their haste to get away. Susan let their hysteria carry her to the edges of the walkways until she could duck into an dark alcove. The streets cleared faster than she thought they would, they all knew that the Authority did not do idle threats. She watched as a small regiment assembled in the square, their commander, a human in the scarlet of a praetorian, shepherd's crook proudly emblazoned on his left pectoral, broke them into squads of a dozen each to search the area.

Susan knew the man in the vid, and she was flushed with the overwhelming need to find him. If only she had one of their comms so she could follow their pursuit. Just as she thought this, an opportunity presented itself and she thanked the powers that be as the square emptied of all the soldiers but the praetorian and a single subordinate. Foolish, really.

She took stock. Light armor and her tiny hidden pistol, made more for contingency than assault. She pulled it out of a secret pocket in her carry all and loaded it stealthily. The man before her was busy barking orders through his comms to notice her steady creep out into the open. They both had their backs to her and she took a deep breath and tossed a lift. It caught the junior officer and lifted him in an aura of blue light. The praetorian spun on his heel and she broke into a run straight at him, dodging to the right at the last possible second to avoid the pattering fire of his assault rifle. She rolled beneath a vending machine and shot at the man's feet, grimacing as the weak shots pinged off his shields. What she wouldn't give for a proper weapon right about now.

She kept rolling until she was clear of the cover and leapt to her feet, tossing a warp at the gently spinning body of the suspended enemy while running, keeping her path serpentine to avoid getting shot too often. The lift she'd tossed exploded as the warp detonated it, taking that little problem out of the fight. She looked around and saw a parked aircar that would do nicely for some cover. Pounding steps behind her told her that she was indeed still being followed.

Susan planted her hands on the roof of the car and with a tiny little biotic 'push' she leapt over it, twisting her body nimbly to end up facing her adversary. His face was pulled in a rictus of unholy wrath as he swept the muzzle of his firearm in an arc to point at her. She ducked and let the bullets catch the vehicle's bulk. Better it than her thinly clad hide.

Calling on her abilities, she threw a dark channel at the man as he reloaded and he yelled as it bit at him with invisible razor sharp teeth, generating a mass effect field that hurt him by inches. Grinning, she waited for some energy to return to her so her next attack wouldn't just fizzle and burn out. Cursing from in front of her cover told her that the effect was still active and she rolled out and ran straight at him, she had to get in range. He seemed shocked at her bold maneuver and in the split second of hesitation on his part, she had her victory.

A bubble of fiery energy flowed off her limbs as she performed the mimetic to a powerful biotic talent. Her arms dipped, then rose as she jumped and spun in midair, forcing the field out into an orb of energy that shifted color as it came in contact with the shimmering dark channel. A boom, much louder than the one that resounded earlier filled the square and she landed to find herself looking at the charred corpse of a very dead praetorian. Inordinately pleased, she reached down and tugged the comm unit free, glad that the annihilation field was so much harsher on flesh than it was on equipment. She let it cool in her hand before clipping it to her ear, linking her omnitool into their broadcast systems with a few deft flicks of her hand.

She heard alerts in alarmed voices fill her ear, "Possible sighting dockside, east. Avenues Alpha through Zeta, local units converge and investigate."

She took off at a sprint, dodging around many patrols that were shining their flashlights into all the dark places. In her ear, she heard reports of sightings pop up from all quarters of the station, but her heart said she was heading in the right direction. She paused at a corner, there was a large group of soldiers ahead, all arguing in low tones about conflicting reports.

Every head turned at the sound of three overloud shots, so close together that they almost seemed to be one. It had to be a sniper rifle, only sniper rifles had that sort of almost concussive blasting sound. It had to be him. And there were a dozen men between Susan and where she needed to be. Men who were even now taking off to go see what the hell that was. No, they would never take him. Not if she had anything to say about it.

She sprinted into range and swept up four of them in a singularity with a thought, turning to drop stasis on another, followed closely by a couple throws. Their ranks scrambled in confusion as she tore into them. Pain blossomed behind her eyes as she pushed far past her normal threshold for using her powers. Her flesh sang with light and she laid about with a vengeance.

They regrouped faster than she hoped and she took the brunt of many hits on her light shields. With a pained grunt, she forced her biotics to shield her with a barrier, leaping on one man to stab him with her omniblade. As he fell, she wrenched his rifle out of his hands and opened fire on the rest. A bullet ripped through the barrier and she cried out in rage and agony as it pierced her thigh, she could feel it grinding on the bone. She reached into her pocket as she sprinted to find some cover and yanked out three stimpacs, plunging them into her hip, where they raced through her veins.

Flooded with a sudden burst of adrenaline, she laughed and ran back into the melee, fearless, barely feeling the bullets as they tore through her flesh. She had just enough self preservation left to reload her barrier every time it dropped in the face of their onslaught. But there were still too many and she was running out of juice, her biotics were losing their effectiveness, she'd run out of heatsinks and was using the rifle as a cudgel, beating the ones who came too close senseless. A shotgun blast at point blank range from her right took her to the ground, barrier fading and she lifted her head to look up into the furious face of an enemy soldier, likely the one who'd shot her.

She'd just started to resign herself to dying when a white blur swept across her vision and the soldier was gone from her sight. She gasped in surprise, before croaking to herself, "Get up. Get the fuck up, T'soni."

And her body listened and she rolled to her feet, panicked screams sounded around her and she got a good look at her rescuer. It was an animal, large and long haired, with a sinuous long body and gold eyes deeply set above a maw full of long sharp teeth. It roared and leapt from man to man, ripping off limbs and gouging huge furrows in flesh all around. Another soldier raised his firearm to shoot at the beast and her arm came up and she flung him away. It felt right somehow and she was too dazed to fight her instincts.

There were only four left and she dispatched them easily with the help of the shaggy animal and when the last man had fallen, she collapsed to her knees in the street, watching her dark red, almost purple blood run in rivulets down her arms to puddle on the concrete. A warm breath in her ear startled her, made her cry out and jump and her head swiveled to take in those burning golden eyes that looked back with something like concern, she felt a pull inside as it whined and nudged her shoulder with its long nose.

She watched as it bounded away, toward the alleys she'd kept these men from going into, and look back at her with an air of...expectation and she rose slowly to her feet, not really sure why she was so ready to follow, only that it seemed...important that she did. Shuffling, she made her way to the alley and paused to lean on the wall there, the pain was really starting to set in now and every step was an agony. She heard quiet voices ahead, followed by a deafening shriek and she stumbled toward it, fearing that it was _him_ that was in pain, that one of those men had gotten by her somehow. She could barely make out the beast ahead of her in the shadows, it seemed to pause so she could keep pace, its eyes twin lambent flames in the dark.

There was a bit of light at the far end of this corridor and she saw two figures, one prone, the other crouched above, turian in silhouette and gasped, trying to make a sound above a whisper with no success. She just didn't have the strength any more. Her vision was darkening and she saw the beast bound out into the open, saw the turian spin and raise a weapon, only to drop it as his eyes fell to her, latching onto her with complete and utter shock. She tried to think of when she'd ever seen him so surprised, he who always planned everything to a tee and would have laughed had she been able.

Her feet suddenly ceased to cooperate with her and she fell, only to find herself being suspended in two rough and warm hands. They curled behind her and drew her close, so she felt secure in their strength and she reached for him, he grabbed her hand, she worked her tongue until she had enough spit to moisten her mouth to speak, her voice coming out in a whisper, "Marcus."

His mandibles were still slack in amazement, his eyes burning a thousand questions at her at once, but he was struck mute, apparently. She looked around, where there was one, there was always the other, but no, there was only void, where there should be this man's brother. Where was he? She looked into Marcus' eyes again and the question was dragged out of her, though she wasn't really sure if she wanted to know the answer, "...Paulus?"

Like a paper man, Marcus crumbled before her, his eyes a storm of rage and guilt and pain and she knew, oh, goddess she knew. Here was a shadow of a man, broken, defeated, but still somehow alive and he knew it and he abhorred it. Any feelings she might have had for Paulus were pale sad things next to the bond that the brothers had shared, closer than twins even. Whatever he'd been through for the last year, it had damaged him to the breaking point. His face was haggard and bare of the bright greens he used to apply so diligently. She lifted a trembling hand to his cheek and offered the only words she could, letting her understanding of his loss saturate her words, "Oh, Marcus..."

Then her eyesight dimmed to black and the only thing she could hear was the deep, uneven gasps of the man who held her up, strong despite being broken. Unable to help herself, she went limp, the last of her energy going to fuel her determination to stay conscious.

Marcus stared down at the female in his arms, frozen, and a deep part of him railed at him to get moving and save her. Save her like he hadn't been able to before. It screamed, _Get moving now, do it before she dies. Move!_

A warm snout nudged him and he remembered that Caesar was there and just like that, he was able to move again. Where to take her? There wasn't a safe place anywhere. His hunters were no doubt closing in while he was frozen here in indecision. He moved his tongue across his dry gums and tried a few words, speaking to the woman whose green eyes looked up at him in pain even as he tried not to hurt her too much as he lifted her, "Susan, I don't know where... Is-is there somewhere we can go?"

"Dock...Outrigger." She managed, coughing up blood, she watched it splatter on his shiny armor and felt chagrin, for some undefinable reason and smiled sheepishly at him, "Sorry."

A mad bubble of laughter drifted up his throat and he bit it off before it became more than a short bark, becoming more subdued as he asked, "The Outrigger, that's a ship?"

"Old...turian cutter, only one out there, pretending to be a...merchanter." Speaking was getting difficult, stars swam across her vision and she forced herself to push back the blackness.

Marcus ran down the alley with Caesar at his heels, the asari semiconscious across his forearms. He passed a dozen bodies on the way out and wondered at the small asari biotic. This was surely how she'd been so grievously hurt. She took out a dozen trained soldiers on her own?

There was noise up ahead and he felt panic well up, if he encountered enemies now, there was no hope, he couldn't defend them without his arms being free to shoot and he very much doubted they'd wait for him to put her down out of harm's way before opening up on him. As he thought about alternatives, an idea occurred to him and he pulled up short alongside Caesar and addressed Susan even as he maneuvered her onto the animal's back, wondering for a moment at how the beast just stood passively to take her weight, "Susan, you have to hold on to his mane, can you do that? Grip here and here."

He showed her how to place her hands and was glad when they closed around the soft hanks in a strong grip. Then, as he unholstered his rifle, he looked Caesar deep in the eyes, "Don't you dare drop her."

Was he imagining a flash of consternation in their glowing depths? No time to ponder that now as they pounded through the streets, flitting from shadow to shadow to avoid detection. He only had to fight once and that was one of the small escorts, they were taking the same path as he and they were in the way. He downed all three before they even had a chance to radio for help, barely pausing as he fired. He wondered briefly if there was a reward on the head he'd just blown away, if he was doing Aria another favor unintentionally.

There was the ship, all tangental thoughts ceased as he bent to the task at hand. He stood before their airlock and palmed the call button, turning back to pull Susan gently back into his arms. A voice, with harsh dual tones, crackled through the comms and he flinched at the loudness of it as it demanded, "Identify yourself."

"I'm a-a friend of Susan's. She's hurt and needs help." He tried to pour all his fear into his plea, knowing that asking a ship to open up for a stranger was a foolhardy venture at best.

"How do we know Susan sent ya? Could be some kinda tricky trick." This was a different voice, low and lilting with some strange accent.

"Please, she's right here and I think she's dying."

"We ain't opening the airlock unless we hear Susan asking."

Marcus groaned inwardly and whispered urgently to the fading woman, "Susan, Susan, you have to wake up and tell your friends to let us in."

She whimpered, but shifted until she was facing the comm, her voice an agonized whisper, "...Simp, let us in. I've been shot and..."

She drifted off, finally lapsing into full unconsciousness, but the hatch opened with a hiss and he stepped into the airlock, Caesar at his side and prayed the decontamination cycle would hurry, her vitals were dropping, her breath was getting thready. He rushed blindly into the ship and halted when he found himself confronted by the barrels of many a gun, all loading with that soft whine.

"Gah, it's_ him!"_ A human in grey armor said, the end of his barrel falling to point at the floor. The rest muttered in assent and awe, while the krogan kept his beady eyes trained on him with deadly intent, as well as his shotgun.

The other human, who was clearly in charge, pushed the weapon to the side, "Stand down, Rahz. You ain't going to shoot him while he's got Susan 'tween you and him."

Relief flooded him as it became obvious that he wasn't going to have to fight_ two_ krogan in close quarters in one day and even more relief when the one he assumed was Simp came forward to take Susan, it was clear from his confident actions that he knew to do something.

Rahz's voice ground out, "Can I shoot him now?"

Marcus felt a vague alarm at the flippant remark, but saw that it was a...jest. With typical krogan bad timing.

"Hell no. Not til we find out what the hell is goin' on." The human barked, "Clear the table in the mess! Get the medkit! And bandages, a whole mess of bandages. Martin, get your ass in the cockpit and monitor stationwide broadcasts."

They scrambled like they'd done this a hundred times and he was left feeling helpless as they rushed around him. He ended up sucked up against the bulkhead, just trying to stay out of the way. Caesar also made himself scarce, somehow the presence of a six foot long animal with huge claws and razor sharp teeth had gone unnoticed in the amazement they'd displayed at his appearance. But then, Caesar had always had the knack of being...unobtrusive.

How had news of what he'd done traveled so quickly? He kept catching glances his way as they worked to remove the bullets from Susan's many wounds. Hours passed as he watched anxiously. Her armor had to be cut away, but the men here moved with clinical detachment and tenderness, unheedful of her near nakedness. She was one of them and they were doing their all for her, he was gratified to see. He winced to see the many holes in her turquoise skin. Nimble fingers, human and turian prodding and probed and sewed and sprayed sealant over shallower wounds while the krogan monitored her anesthesia and vitals with his omnitool. Quite a pile of blood soaked gauze lay discarded in a metal pan by the time they were done and the three men stood back with identical sighs, throwing relieved looks all around.

Simp turned to him finally and smiled, "It was touch and go there for a mite, but we got her back, I believe."

Marcus let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and sagged, bone deep weariness rising to the forefront. He rubbed his face, swaying as he did. He tried to extend some sort of courtesy, though he was lost here, "...Thank you...for saving her."

"Didn't do it for yer sake." Came the sharp retort, with an even sharper look. And just like that, he was pinned by three unfriendly stares. Simp's face softened when it took in his uncertainty and the human chuffed, "Now, ye can stay til she wakes up, but you _are_ going to tell me how our Susan ended up bullet-riddled and half dead, ye ken?"

He nodded numbly. The other turian, his Parthian colony markings shining brightly white in the flourescent lights made a noise of disapproval deep in his chest and Marcus tensed. The turian glared and said softly, "Simp, no good will come of harboring this barefaced assassin-"

Simp slapped the man's arm in agitation, "Who does all the decisions around here? You had yer chance to play captain and we all saw how that went. Get below and start making room in the smugglebin for these two and that great bear/dog/ferret thing. I gots me a feeling that we're goin' to be searched by the Authority on the morrow. And make it cozy, our Susan needs a bit of coddling now she's all banged up."

"You, what's yer name?" The human turned to him again.

"Marcus."

"Well, Marcus, I don't pretend to understand your people's fancy ways, what with the paint and all, but I reckon I ken what 'bareface' means." As the human spoke, Marcus waited for the customary derision or accusation, for surely one or the other was to follow. He was surprised when the human stuck his hand out and reached tentatively for it, shaking it up and down in confusion. Simp smiled again, "There be two kinds of honorless sorts, the men that lost it, and the men who left it behind. Them what lost it are always looking for it."

Puzzled thoroughly, he tried to get his weary mind to process a single word Simp said and he queried uneasily, "And the other kind?"

"Well, they ain't likely to bother, are they?" The man cackled in good humor, "Anyway, you look like you might be blown over by a gentle wind so get below, Errol will show ye where. Yer going to have to be terrible quiet when the sheep herders come 'round tomorrow, and yer...pet, too. Ye owe me a story, so don't get yerself arrested afore you spill the beans."

He went where indicated, after collecting Susan in his arms, but was stopped at the door by the massive Rahz, who halted him with a hand on his arm. Rahz glared at him, typical krogan frustration mixing with something else in his eyes, "Are you really Archangel?"

"No." Turning his back on the noticeably crestfallen look on the craggy face of the krogan, he shook his head, baffled. Caesar was already in the hold, watching Errol shift boxes solemnly. Marcus set Susan gently on the decking and moved to help, help which the other man accepted with a grunt. They cleared the floor in the corner and Errol tuggled on a piece of decking, pulling it up to reveal a bolthole, full of scavenged equipment that could only have come from enemy ships. So...these men were mercs...or pirates. He snorted at the irony as they made space enough to put down a slim mattress and some boxes full of rations.

Errol spoke to him for the first time, begrudgingly, "You'll have to stay here for a good long while since we don't know when they'll come to search. Your little stunt will have us in lockdown for another week probably. Try not to eat too often, the jakes down here is only good for a flush every once in awhile. Here's some bandages and all the medigel I could find, change her twice a day, use this to wash the wounds."

Marcus tried to shuffle the items in his arms around to a more tenable position as he descended into the hole, he stored it all quickly and reached up to accept the light burden of Susan's comatose body, which he placed in the center of the mattress, her head tentacles shifting slightly to accommodate. Odd, he didn't know they did that. Caesar leapt lightly in, immediately finding a corner and curling up in it.

Once he had Susan settled and the bolthole was covered up again, he looked for space to lay down on the decking and saw that he'd be sharing the corner with Caesar. He took off his armor, stacking it to one side neatly and tried to wipe some of the dirt and blood off his face and neck with some of his canteen water, not very successfully. Marcus stretched his legs out and leaned into the animal's bulk, the beast grumbled but otherwise accepted his crowding. And he found it remarkably comfortable, or maybe he was just so tired that he'd gotten to that 'can and will sleep anywhere' mode. When darkness claimed him, he prayed for no dreams, no night terrors to haunt him in the deep waters of his mind.


	7. Chapter 7

_Death, what is death? Only a portal and what is a portal but a door to somewhere else. Somewhere strange and different. She floated as she contemplated it, she could only see it if she looked at it askance, her mind interpreting it as a dark ribbon of infinite length, it touched everywhere, a slipstream of changing states. She was conscious of her slow slide toward it being halted, if she reached out she could still touch it if she so chose, but for now she was content to ponder it in this timeless place._

_Beyond the veil, she felt not the expected fear and darkness, but rather something else altogether. Heat, joy, and wonderment, an ache for something new. The feeling was everywhere, inside and out, it touched her with a paternal caress and she leaned into it, feeling a wash of love from all around. She reached out in turn for comfort and an image flashed through her mind, her fingers, short and chubby, catching in strands of long, red hair._

_She felt a 'downward' tug and found herself floating above her body. It was in a dark place, everything was a wash of shiftiing shadows, like she was the only tangible thing there. The shard of her that was minding her empty shell felt no fear so she let herself observe for now, feeling no rush to return to her fleshy abode. She saw that someone had cleaned off half of the blue makeup, giving her a comical piebald appearance and she was covered in an unlikely amount of bruises and bandages. The air was filled with the sharp tang of medigel and something else, something terribly familiar. A spicy, nutty smell._

_Marcus...it was Marcus, he really was here. She hadn't dreamt it. She turned her 'eye' to him and felt waves of shock fill her as she took in the thing that the turian was using as a pillow. Marcus was the dark heart of an inferno of bright light. A bright light that peered right at her with burning curiosity. It was so large, its presence pounded at her in a staccato of intrigue and she felt overwhelmed in that small space, and her mouth opened to cry out-_

A hand, warm and rough clapped over her mouth and her eyes popped open to see Marcus' face inches above her own, his blue eyes full of worry and she went still under his hand. He put a finger to his lips and looked up, lapsing into a watchful stillness, so still that but for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he could be made of stone.

Booted feet pounded the decking above, voices called to each other in sentences that ended in an upward inflection. A search party of some sort, they were looking for him, she suddenly knew, even though certain memories were muddy at best. Something about soldiers, and she was following them so she could find him. A flash of a memory provided the vision of a dark shape falling, turning, shooting, killing and she suppressed a gasp.

The sounds above faded as the men left, unsuccessful in their hunt and she tugged at his sleeve with one hand. Marcus dragged his attention to her and tilted his head. She almost grinned, it was so him. Susan whispered, in case there were still listening ears close by, "Where are we?"

"The Outrigger. I didn't have anywhere else to take you." He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous and...guilty? His eyes kept darting all around, everywhere but her.

"Right...Because you killed those men, in the Temple." She watched him wince and wondered at it. She tried to sit up and gasped when it lit a fire in all her wounds. Alarmed, Marcus helped her, pushing an extra blanket under her to prop her up. She hissed as she settled back, "How long was I out?"

"Three days." She caught his blue stare for just a moment before they resumed their restless wandering. Then his face turned from her, expression hidden, "We almost lost you."

The silence stretched on between them, each lost in their own thoughts and Susan ventured a hand out to rest on his forearm. He started under her hand and she pulled it back, flushing with guilt. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, soft and hesitant, "Marcus...I never..."

_-betrayed you, _her voice wanted to say, but couldn't quite muster the nerve to. It was like he heard the silent words, though. A noise came out of his throat, she didn't know exactly what it was, only that it wrenched at her heart and she wished he would turn to her so she could see his face and his voice rolled out at her in a hoarse croak, "I know. It wasn't you."

An even longer pause this time and Susan broke it with a hushed, "Where have you been? I searched for signs, but there were reports. Your sisters think you're both dead."

He did turn to her then and Marcus shivered, _No, let them keep on thinking you died with Paulus. _"I...we...crashed on a planet named Alchera. I was there for most of the last year and a half."

She ignored the flash of self recrimination for now. He blamed himself clearly, "You were the only survivor?"

"...Yes. Just me and Ushal." He left it at that. She didn't need to hear about how they'd been tortured, how he'd...cowered in submission to their torturer.

"It was Aleia, wasn't it?" Her pointed words hit the mark squarely and made his expression sharpen drastically, something deeper and more unstable than rage, she saw this in the clenching of his jaw and the twitching of his mandibles. His eyes fairly burned with it as he stared off into the distance. She turned to the white bundle of fur curled up at the foot of her bed and asked, "And what is that?"

"I call him Caesar. I found him on that planet. I don't think I would have survived without him." His voice took on a musing tone, as if surprised to hear himself say that. But it was true, he'd have died when the heater broke, or when he'd run out of rations near the end. Caesar had brought more than being an excellent hunting partner, his presence alone had helped Marcus keep up a bulwark against the howling in his mind.

Something about the beast puzzled Susan, like she glimpsed something in a dream. But everything prior to her waking had become occluded, misty and intangible. "Hmm, Caesar..."

"I hear you talkin' down there, oh Susie. Y'awake, aye?" Simp called from above.

"I'm conscious, a bit beat up, but everything seems to be accounted for."

The grate lifted and they looked up into the human's smiling face and he passed a hand over his hair, "'Ceptin' maybe yer sense, ya loony blue scrap of a girl."

"I'm sorry, Simp, there just wasn't anywhere else to go."

"I figgered. So...let's see. First, someone raises all kind of hell in yon Temple, then the Authority closed the market and all our custom ran away like their asses was on fire. We close up shop and retire for the night and then someone comes a-knockin', this same someone that everyone and their mother saw shooting up half the leadership and who's he got with him? A huge beastie and our Susan, all bloody and full o'holes. Can't help but feel maybe that this wasn't part o'yer plan."

Chagrined, Susan passed a hand over her tentacles, "No...decidedly not, but plans change."

"Oh, yer going to have to do better than that." Simp smirked as he sat on the edge of the hole, feet dangling. He lit a cigarette and puffed it mightily, blowing smoke rings. Marcus was suddenly reminded of Massani and wondered if the human was still alive.

"I'll fill you in later. Let's just say, my time on Omega was...interesting."

Simp laughed, "You was only there for two days. Well, anyway, port authority is lifting the lockdown earlier than they wanted, having found not a single sign of the dangerous man they're lookin' fer. Your...friend here, I'm guessing, won't be getting off?"

Susan looked at Marcus, who sat back during these proceedings, carefully neutral, not giving away his thoughts on the matter, but she didn't like the way his hands flexed on themselves or the way his flesh seemed wasted, nevermind that she didn't intend to let him out of her sight and shook her head, "No, he's coming with us. Putting him back in that nest of vipers is a death sentence."

"Won't cause trouble, will he?"

"No, I'll vouch for him."

"Good 'nough for me, could always use another hand around here. Out of bunk space, though."

"I can stay down here." Marcus spoke up for the first time and was a little surprised at the vehemence of Susan's denial as her lips compressed into a grim line and her head shook violently.

"No, put another bed in my room, I have no problem sharing." Why did that raise a little warmth in her cheeks? Puzzling, she rolled her eyes at the human's knowing grin. There was no way she was going to let Marcus brood down here alone. She had a feeling that that would be a mistake. He'd spent enough time alone.

Why was she doing this? She was acting like he needed to be protected. Sure, surviving on the station now was, well, frankly going to be difficult, but it was doable. Hadn't he almost shot her on more than one occasion, when he'd been blinded by Aleia's duplicity? He opened his mouth to protest and shut it under her glare. It brooked no argument and he relented. A part of him was glad, a larger part than he wanted to admit. After all, she owed him nothing. Not after what he'd done.

His reverie was broken by a slim hand squeezing his arm and he looked down into Susan's concerned eyes. She said, "Is there anything you need from the station_?_ Belongings?"

"No, I have everything I need." Something flashed in her eyes, too fast to read and he furrowed his browplates in confusion.

_Stop it, you silly girl, he didn't mean it like that_, it was just his way to stare with that intensity. Susan smiled and looked back up at Simp, "We're set. Whenever you want to leave, we're ready."

"Aye, the sooner the better." Then Simp left, whistling as he went and the pair looked at each other, with uncertainty.

Susan said, "Help me to my bunk? I seem to have hurt myself."

Wordlessly, he lifted her onto her feet, keeping a steadying arm around her. Getting up the ladder was a chore, but slowly they made the short journey to her, now their, room aft of the small messhall. The door opened and he saw a sparse room with a slim bunk in it, recently moved, he could tell from the scraping on the deck. Presumably to make room for another bunk. Susan gestured that he take her to the back, where a swipe of her palm unfolded washing facilities, a very utilitarian design and she started the shower, a thin trickle of almost warm mist and turned to him with a grimace, "I'm going to be selfish and take the first shower. Why don't you go out to the mess and get a bite to eat?"

Marcus turned from her to the door and back again, feeling indecisive on what he should do. He'd taken care of her for the last three days, her nudity didn't bother him. And now, she was barely limping around and yet he didn't want to make her uncomfortable with his presence. He knew females of other races were body shy, but he really didn't want her to fall and be harmed further. He gestured helplessly, "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"You know, from anyone else, that could be taken the wrong way, but, considering, I'll take it at face value." She smiled to hide her slightly flushed cheeks, and while this uncharacteristic caring from him was charming in a way, she could handle herself, "I'm sure, Marcus. Go eat."

Reluctantly, he left, pausing in the hall to gain his bearings. A confrontation with the rest of the crew was unavoidable, so he took a deep breath and made his way to the mess. The sound of conversation ceased as he entered the room and he just kept himself from wincing. They _would_ have to be all here, right now. He made his feet move him in the direction of the table and sat gingerly at the opposite end of everyone else. He felt their gazes on him like burrowing lasers and forced himself to look back at them nonchalantly.

There was a very uncomfortable silence as they stared each other down. Finally, the one he'd heard called Martin, shifted around in his seat and offered, "We got some dextro nutrient paste if you're hungry."

Caesar chose that time to saunter in, causing another hush but he just lolled his tongue out of his mouth in a yawn and plopped down next to Marcus, resting his chin on the table with a contented rumble. Marcus sank his hand deep into that soft fur and tried to find a measure of comfort there. It did help steady him and he cleared his throat, venturing tentatively, "I am hungry, but do you have anything other than nutrient paste?"

They laughed at his plaintive tone and Rahz poked Errol, "Break out your stash. Man's hungry."

With a sour look, the turian stood and went to the cooler, pulling out a short box and dropping it in front of Marcus. It was leftovers of some kind and Caesar sniffed at it dubiously before dismissing the whole affair with an exaggerated sigh. This caused another laugh and Marcus felt a tug at his mandibles at the warm rich sound. His stomach growled and he opened the box, tucking in with gusto. Even cold and not fresh, the meat was delicious and he turned to Errol, "Thank you."

"Someone likes your cooking. That's a first." A guffaw ran around the table and Martin slid closer to his end of the table, warily watching the beast in case it decided he looked tasty. The human leaned over a bit and turned his arm to show the turian his omnitool screen. He pushed a button and a vid queued, a vid that was clearly from a camera in the Temple. Forkful of food paused halfway to his gaping mouth, Marcus watched himself kill those men, feeling a second rush as orange blood flew into the air when he killed that krogan and he breathed out as the screen froze on his fleeing back. Martin watched his reaction with some amusement clearly stamped on his face, "So...this is you then."

He darted his gaze around to them where they were intently watching him and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Well, that explains alot. I didn't know there were cameras."

There weren't. When he'd 'cased' the building, there had been no surveillance in the chapel proper. Someone must have put them there to catch him in the act and he knew that someone was probably blue and had a penchant for criminal intrigue. Rahz clapped one massive hand on his shoulder, snorting, "It was fuckin' brilliant. Oh, I think I must have watched that at least twenty times and it always made me chuckle. Those saps had it coming."

"Why'd you do it? Fed up with them like the rest of the galaxy?" Martin asked, genuinely curious.

"You guys are idiots, he clearly did it because someone was paying him. He's just a hired killer." Errol's eyes pinned him where he sat and Marcus set his fork down, suddenly not as hungry as he thought he was.

"Who cares? We do lots of stuff because people pay us." Rahz snapped back at the recalcitrant turian, who just crossed his arms and harrumphed in displeasure.

Simp spoke up for the first time since he'd sat, "Marcus is one of us now, for as long as he's on this boat. He pulls his weight just like the rest of you dogs, he gets the respect he earns and a share of the profits."

Marcus looked down at this show of support, he didn't deserve it. And he certainly wasn't one of them, they were obviously close comrades and he was the intruder turned unwelcome hindrance in their midst. Martin chimed in, "Well, if he's a killer, he sure is one slick shit bastard of one. I can't wait to see what he's like on the field."

Rahz rumbled agreement and Errol stayed silent, complex thoughts flashing behind his eyes. The group broke back into small talk, shifting back into customary patterns and he listened and watched with fascination. Mercs they were and yet he couldn't equate them with the hundreds of faceless enemies that had worn that label. Their simple interactions pulled at him, bittersweet. He'd forgotten how to be easy around people, he wondered if, like in his team, there was any treachery harbored in any of the hearts around him and felt doubt eating away at him.

It would be too easy to forget that the one closest to him, other than Paulus, had been the one to betray him and he shuddered. No, he wouldn't let that happen again, not that he had another brother to sacrifice to his stupidity and naivety. Guilty thoughts of Inigo reared their heads in his mind, he did have another brother, though long since disowned. Fears for Inigo's fate arose, like they always did on occasions like this, when he pondered too long._  
_

He was shaken from his thoughts by a blue hand reaching past his face to rest on Caesar's head and started. Amid shouts of welcome and cajoling comments on how fucked up she looked, Susan sat at the table and smiled all around. Waving them to silence, she said wryly, "Long time, no see, fellas."

They laughed and Marcus watched as she flushed under their regard, her complexion her natural pale turquoise. Martin gave her a little embrace and she winced. The human pulled back with an apology, "Sorry, Susie. Still a bit tender around the edges, huh?"

"Yeah, well, I did get into a little scuffle dockside."

There was a flood of questions then, Martin, "What happened?"

"Why didn't you come back sooner? Before you got all nine hells beat out of you." Errol.

Rahz, "Why aren't you bluer?"

Everyone turned to the krogan with disbelieving eyes and the giant mumbled, "What?"

Marcus couldn't help himself, he snorted a laugh, which drew every eye to him, much to his dismay. He pushed his food around with his fork.

Susan smiled, "Yes, I'm green..ish. The blue was a disguise, Rahz."

Errol snorted, "Obviously."

She continued, "I didn't come back sooner because I still had things to do, Errol. And as for what happened...I was walking through the streets when they played that footage on every screen on Omega. I recognized an old friend and I could tell that he was going to need some help to get out of trouble."

She glanced at Marcus as she said this, but he seemed intent on playing with his food. "Little did I know that following him was going to get me into trouble, too."

The fork stilled and she wondered what he was thinking. The others were enthralled as she described hearing gunshots, seeing a dozen men race for where they were coming from and how she got injured stopping them. Sounds of awe came from around her as she gestured animatedly to re enact the events that led up to her showing up at their door, looking for asylum.

"Pfft, as if I'd say no." Simp laughed, moving around the table so that he was sitting next to Marcus and across from Susan. The human leaned in to Marcus, saying softly, "I can't help but notice that you neatly dodged the question of why you done it by being all quiet and lettin' the others gab their heads off. Is it true what Errol said, you done it for money?"

Marcus looked at the man out of the corner of his eye, feeling guilt as a stone around his neck. He had so much to feel guilty for, this was not a large thing to admit and maybe being seen for what he was would keep them from trying to enfold him into their company. The others were silent as they waited for him to speak, "That was part of it, yes."

"I knew it." Errol hissed, but he seemed to be the only one angry at the admission. Marcus tried not to see the disappointment that flashed in Susan's green eyes. Maybe she was regretting vouching for him now and he wondered at the rush of painful remorse that touched him then and swallowed down a lump in his throat.

"Who among us hasn't killed for pay? I know I have." Simp growled, slamming his fist down onto the table. "You mind what I said earlier."

Susan reached across the table and touched his hand where it, unbeknownst to him, had clenched into a painfully tight fist, drops of blue blood falling from his rent palm onto the metal surface. He silently cursed his lack of control and wiped his hand on a paper napkin, avoiding her gaze as she sought to look him in the eye. Sighing, she spoke to him, so softly that the others couldn't hear over their arguing, "Go shower, Marcus. Get some rest."

Grateful for the reprieve, he shot her a look that said as much and she smiled at him gently. He left the table and ventured back to the cabin and she felt her hand get grabbed and squeezed. Simp looked at her earnestly, "Worried?"

She laughed, "Always."

"'Bout him, I mean."

"He's...been through a lot. Until I saw him three days ago, I thought he was dead." Susan hummed thoughtfully to herself, "He was missing for a year."

Simp watched her with hooded eyes, "He your beau?"

Susan smiled at how ridiculous this was, "No, never. He was, what do you humans call it, engaged at the time. And I...was seeing someone else."

"Then why did you half kill yourself to save him?"

She turned to look back to where Marcus had disappeared, "I...owe him. When I could have acted to help him...I didn't. It's my fault he's like this."

Simp hummed, "What he done is gonna make him a target in Shepard space. He ain't gonna be safe anywhere near Omega or the occupied colonies."

"I know." She stared at the drops of blue on the table, "He's changed. The old Marcus Vakarian wouldn't have done something so...gaudy. He was...proud."

She grinned ruefully as she said it and Simp laughed, running his hands through his brown hair, "They say, 'pride goeth before a fall', ye ken. Anyway, got plans?"

"I received new intel. Think I could impose upon you for a trip back to Citadel space?"

He nodded, "Was thinkin' of goin' that way myself. Got to unload all this sheep herder gear we looted somewhere those bastards can't sniff us out. Got folks what could use a spare bit of armor no matter what color it happens to be. They just slap a new coat of paint on."

"Well, we'll just tag along then." Susan smiled and ran her hand through the fur on Caesar's head, noting how soft it was, and how the animal rumbled in pleasure under her hand. Though the eyes, those molten eyes, held something that if she had been more focused and less preoccupied with her plans would have startled her with how very intelligent they seemed.

_She is like a gravity well, _thought Caesar as he watched her eyes half close, and leaned into her hand, drawn to her. So bright, but so ignorant of it, like it had been locked away from her conscious mind. He wondered why her taste was so familiar. He knew when he encountered her fighting those men that she was important somehow, there almost seemed to be a line that led from her to his ward, they were linked in some way. Maybe this is what he'd prayed for, something for Marcus to anchor himself to. He could only hope.

Unable to intervene more directly, he pushed down his frustration and let her fingers soothe the knots on his neck, gently influencing her with a touch on her mind, so subtle that it went unnoticed, though if she had been more 'aware', she'd surely know him for what he was. As it was, he didn't know how much longer he could keep up this ruse with her around. She'd see through him eventually and then he'd have the rather tricky task on his hands of explaining to Marcus his lie and why it had been necessary, but until then, he'd keep on observing.

The pull of the wanderlust in him was strong though, soon he'd have to walk a new world to quench it. Now if only he could find a hidden place on this ship to do what he needed to do, somewhere he wouldn't be missed if he happened to disappear for many hours.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you sure we have the right coordinates?" Errol said from the nav console, looking out into the black with its few stars twinkling away. There was not a single planet or system for lightyears.

Susan scratched her chin in thought. These were the coordinates she was given, "Yes. Just give it some time."

The crew looked around at each other doubtfully and Martin sighed from where he sat at the helm, "You know, we could go sack that outpost we passed on the way here. I could drop a outboard sensor here and it'd tell us if anyone showed up."

Simp smacked the pilot on the back of the head, talking loudly over the man's protests, "No raiding in Council space. You know that. They leave us alone, we leave them alone."

Marcus leaned against a wall with his eyes closed as he listened to the men argue, Caesar hunched down on the deck at his feet. He shrugged his shoulders to settle the cowl of his armor better, it unnerved him slightly to be wearing it again, even clean, as he'd spent an afternoon making it so. But it was the only armor on the ship that fit his tall frame and even as flashy as it was, it fit him like a glove. He wondered if it could be repainted to be less gaudy.

His thoughts turned to what intel Aria had managed to procure for him and what he'd learned from the dear, departed Sanders. The Abraxus was a turian dreadnought, constantly on the move. It would be so very difficult to locate even if he had contacts, but no, reaching out to former comrades or superiors in the UAF would be a mistake. At best, he was a deserter, at worst, a traitor. Both those still carried a death sentence. His next move was alarmingly unclear, he just didn't know what to do and that pained him. He swatted at his ear canal anxiously as his brother cackled in that part of his mind reserved for shameful thoughts, _Thinking of giving up, are we? Well, I always knew you'd fail. Even when I was alive, I knew you were a failure._

Susan watched him out of the corner of her eye as he twitched and fretted over there, seemingly unaware of it. The perfect stillness that used to be his constant state was absent, he couldn't seem to settle on any one area to stand, instead shuffling back and forth at random times. Over the last few days, as they'd traversed the border and its many patrols, she'd watched as he grew ever more restless. It was disturbing to say the least. What could be done?

She shivered slightly as she remembered walking into their shared bunk during the sleep cycle and seen him lying there, staring at the ceiling. His gaze would shift to her for a moment and she could see him assessing her as a threat before those blue eyes would just roll back to whatever fascinating thing they were fixated on and he would close himself off again. Waking brought the same vision time and time again. She wondered if he ever slept.

No stims were disappearing from the medkit. She'd know if they were, seeing as she resupplied them herself as the one who usually used them all. She turned her gaze back to the window, sighing herself as the blackness yielded no answers. The stress was getting to her, and she wished she had the luxury of climbing into a bottle. Instead, she surreptitiously triggered her suit give her another stim and felt relief as the chemical wound its way through her body, steadying her ragged nerves, clearing her mind of the detritus of useless worrying.

Marcus opened his eyes as Caesar rumbled low in his chest and looked down at the animal. Caesar sat up, eyes alert, ears pricked and the beast stared out into space at something only he could see and Marcus said, his own instincts prodding him, "Something's coming."

All eyes turned out as something dark, so dark that it seemed to absorb light or bend it somehow, moved out there and Simp clutched Martin's shoulder, "Readings?"

"Negative. Whatever it is is just sucking up all the telemetry like a sponge." Martin's hand flew over the keys and he turned to them all, "I think it's a stealth drive..."

"You can't do better than that?" Errol grumbled, thrusting his finger out at the thing, whatever it was, "That doesn't just look like a stealth drive. We have a damn stealth drive and it doesn't make us spirits be damned invisible!"

"They're hailing us." Everyone clustered around the comms as they were opened.

A voice, male, human if she had to guess, crackled over the comm, "Outrigger, prepare for docking procedure. Deploy docking tube."

Everyone in her periphery seemed taken aback and she quieted them with a wave. Simp flicked a button and spoke to the other ship, "Aye, could. Maybe if you identify yourself."

A woman cursed in the background, her words vulgar and imaginative. Her voice was familiar somehow, as was her brash tone as she shouted, "Just fuckin' do it. We don't have time to play stupid games."

Susan again held up her hand to forestall her crew's protests and leaned toward the mic, her voice a whimsical and sardonic lilt, "Two career marines were in a bar. One of them says 'Look at those two drunks over there, that could be us in ten years.' The other guy says...?"

There was a tense pause as every eye turned to her, confused, and she smiled as the correct response came back, "You asshole! That's a mirror!"

Susan winced as the men around her burst into raucous laughter, her hand turning down the outgoing volume a tad.

There was mirth in that voice now and it chuckled dryly, "I'm going to kill Vega for this spy versus spy shit. Are you satisfied out there? Open up."

Susan closed the comms and turned to Simp, "Do it. They are who we're here to meet after all."

"Yeah, but who are they?" Errol said sourly as he turned to complete the task at Simp's nod.

* * *

He had the disquieting feeling of walking in another man's footprints. The path he'd chosen for himself, though logically the only one he was suited for, seemed to have led him along the same trajectory as that other person. Even now, he wondered what to make of it as he walked behind Susan and the small crew of the 'Rigger onto a ship he'd only ever seen holos of. He could tell from the inside that the ship was long and sleek, though its outward silhouette was still indisinguishable from space, something intrinsically built into the hull, he imagined, seeing as the 'cloaking' device wasn't deactivated. They walked out of decontamination into the stern of this frigate, flanked by soldiers who didn't overtly threaten them if they didn't behave, but eyed them critically nonetheless and they got the message.

Marcus saw a human standing just to their left, speaking in low tones to the pilot, a quarian. His eyes swept about to take in details. The human was large and burly. He had tattoos all over, they adorned every inch of visible skin in some fashion or other. He stood in a casual slouch that belied his underlying tension, Marcus could see it in the slant of his shoulders, the way he held his head as he quietly growled at the pilot, "Sweep it again. Make sure there's no bugs, that our little friends didn't bring trouble with them. I don't want a repeat of the Destiny's Ascension fiasco."

Then the human turned and Marcus felt a stab of recognition, but then this was the Normandy. He really shouldn't be surprised. Vega, one of the people who'd saved the galaxy with Shepard, a man who sneered slightly as he looked upon the group of mercs. Marcus could almost hear the man thinking, _Mercs, mercs standing on my ship._

Susan also felt a bemused smile park itself on her face. She knew who this was and wondered if they were all here, she hoped anyway. It was a cunning little ship to hide them in its embrace. She felt the thrill of hope run through her. Maybe Javik and her sisters were here, she thrust the urge to blurt out questions down as the one named Vega approached and spoke to the small congregation, "I'm going to assume you all know where you are and who we are, so let's just skip that part and move on. You, asari, come with me to the war room, the rest, take the elevator one deck down and you'll find a mess hall. Wait there until the meeting's over. You'll understand if your movements are restricted, right fellas?"

The group, seeming cowed at being in so famous a ship among people that a quarter of the galaxy was hunting with all their resources, all nodded, almost bashfully. Marcus and Susan exchanged a wary look as they were parted, he was fairly certain she'd be safe here, though he'd have liked to be there in person to make sure of it. He wondered at himself and these strange thoughts, didn't he have enough to worry about? Finding Aleia not among the least of them? And yet the thought of abandoning Susan to persue Aleia brought on a a wave of unease and guilt. He was responsible for her nearly getting killed many times over now, and in his heart he knew that Paulus would want him to keep her safe. He owed her that much, for as long as he could manage it. But it was getting harder to keep it all bottled and he clenched his fists in silence. He felt the uncertainty was going to kill him.

They were led to the appointed place and sat at a long table in a large galley and grew restive under the pointed gazes of the silent crew of the Normandy that wandered in and out of the area. Their escort stood by, rifles in hand. Simp, Errol and Martin exchanged significant looks while Rahz looked around dazedly, clearly in the throes of ecstasy at being on this ship, of all the vessels they could have encountered. He rumbled, as if saying it aloud made it more real, "The Normandy. We're on the Normandy."

"Rather much nicer than your little model one, eh?" Simp chuckled, "I'm sure this one has its wings glued on proper anyway."

"Hey, the instructions weren't clear. They were both marked 'Part C'."

"Only a krogan couldn't tell left from right." Martin laughed. "And what about the fuselage? Pretty sure the engines go in the back."

"I got the damn thing together, didn't I? So what if it doesn't look exactly like it's s'posed to?"

Errol grunted, arms crossed, "Your impromptu design modifications were brilliant, Rahz. It's the only ship in the UAF that flies backward. I can see how that would be real useful in a dogfight."

They all laughed at the frustrated krogan, and Marcus marveled at how easily the tension was broken. He saw the soldiers guarding them smile in response to their antics.

Martin groaned, "Speaking of flying, what I wouldn't give to fly this bucket for just an hour. I bet she handles like a dream."

A voice broke into their mirth, "You'd be surprised. Too much junk in the trunk to handle smooth. It takes a delicate touch and, forgive the pun, balls of steel."

They turned to take in the newest arrival and were promptly stunned into silence. It was a geth, no, it wasn't a geth. This shell looked human and as the metal man walked toward them, Marcus was struck at how much expression was on that shiny face. It, no he, smiled brilliantly at the small group and sat with them, utterly at ease. There was silence as the men tried to work out exactly what was going on and Marcus sighed.

The construct laughed, drawing more surprised looks, "Yeah, I know how it looks. Cybermen meets Forbidden Planet with a dash of Lost In Space. 'Danger, Will Robinson, danger.' "

Then the shell flailed his arms around in a comically stiff way and the men laughed, albeit uneasily. Marcus, the context lost on him, just shook his head in confusion. He was starting to wonder if he'd gone mad after all.

Errol snorted, "More like Batteries Not Included."

"Ah, a fellow cinephile. I'll do you one better, better than that Spielbergian mess of a movie." The AI leaned in closer and Marcus almost smiled to see how the men leaned in as well, taken in easily by this one's easy candor and pleasant demeanor, "I'd say, it's more like Bicentennial Man, only in reverse."

Rahz grumbled, "You're just making up words now. What the hell does any of that mean?"

Simp laughed and punched the krogan in the arm, "You're not the only lost one, Rahz. Seems Errol speaks the language, though. All those late nights watching vids are finally paying off, aye?"

Errol shot him a sarcastic smile, "Guess so. Anyway, I'm Errol. This is our illustrious captain, _Simple_ Simon. Our pilot, Martin. Our tank, Rahz. And our other token turian, Marcus, who just joined us after his debut on film in a little piece the Shepards are calling, 'An uncalled for aggressive and honorless action against the sovereignty of the Theocracy, no doubt a plot to overthrow the righteous divine right to rule and spread lies regarding the truth of the Shepard'."

Marcus felt queasy as he abruptly became the center of attention and just kept himself from cringing, wishing fervently that he hadn't worn the damned armor.

The AI smiled at him knowingly and turned to Errol and the rest, "I'm Joker. I saw that vid, by the way. Pretty slick."

"Yeah, it went viral. How is the question, though, considering how rigidly monitored the extranet is now." Errol said and then made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, "Only we can't get him to talk about it."

All eyes once again turned to Marcus expectantly, he cleared his throat nervously, "...It was a farce."

Simp snorted and Joker laughed, "A farce, you say? Damn thing was like an action flick, though underbudgeted to be a blockbuster. Not enough explosions."

Errol laughed in a slightly demeaning way and Marcus felt a pang of anger, blurting, "It was messy. It was loud. And it's not the way I usually operate."

_Correction, it's not the way you used to operate, _said the unwelcome specter of Paulus in his head and he twitched fitfully in his seat, trying to keep up the appearance of sanity by holding the AI's gaze as steadily as he could. Joker seemed taken aback, "Jeez, this guy's a barrel of laughs, isn't he?"

"Wait..." Martin broke in, eyes round as he looked at the AI, "You're Joker, _the_ Joker? Jeff Moreau, the pilot of the Normandy when Shepard took down Saren, the Collectors and the Reapers?"

The AI ran a hand over his metallic hair abashedly, "Ah, yeah, former Alliance pilot of the Normandy and yeah, I was around for all that stuff."

"What-I mean-what did-" The stuttering Martin waved a hand, indicating the shiny metal gleam of Joker's body.

"Well...think of it as a whole body cybernetic replacement."

"They can do that now?" Martin and the rest of the 'Rigger's crew traded wondering looks.

"Ah, no, this was more or less an accident." Joker ducked his head. Marcus was sure that it wasn't a whole truth, it rang of being incomplete, but prying was probably not the best option here.

Marcus ventured another question though, more along the lines of what he did want to know, which was why they were here, no, why Susan was here, "So this meeting upstairs. Pretty important, if I had to guess. So why are you here and not there?"

The metal man smiled secretively and said, "I am there, and I'm also here. It's the luxury of being an AI to have the eminent ability to multitask."

His browplates lifted at this and he leaned closer to the AI, deciding to go for blunt, "What's going on?"

Cool metallic eyes assessed him, he saw himself reflected in them, distorted. Joker hesitated and an emotion flickered across his face, too quick to be caught and understood, and he leaned back and sighed, "...Things have...escalated. The Shepards, God how I hate having to call them that, the Theocracy, is on the move. They've mobilized and the borders are looking pretty shaky. While we hide and cower here on the margins, the occupied colonies suffer and more get picked off around the edges."

"Why doesn't the Council do something? Where's their armada?" Rahz said, tone puzzled and angry. No, none of these men liked what was happening out there and Marcus was sure the sentiment was pretty standard all over.

"We don't have a counter to their technology. That jump drive they use gives them an overwhelming advantage in any firefight." Joker said thoughtfully, "Even I've had to run on occasion."

There was note of pain in the man's voice there, a story that Marcus wasn't sure he wanted to hear.

Instead, Marcus spoke, vaguely aware that they were staring at him again, "Imagine planning an offensive only to find your forces flanked at every turn, routed before they can even bring their guns to bear. Brute strength isn't going to win this one. You have a course of action."

It wasn't a question, but a statement and Marcus saw surprise flash on the AI's face at his astute assessment and Joker coughed, clearly a nervous habit from a time when he had lungs that needed to breath, when he was still just a flesh and blood man and he spoke, "Yes, they're talking about it now. See, they, um the Shepards, took something. Or rather, someone, and we think they plan on using...her...to get what they want from a certain besieged planet. But we don't know where she is, or how to find her."

It was frustrating how that always seemed the case. Not enough data, and from the AI's expression, not enough time either. "So you want to break the siege at Rannoch. Free the geth and the quarians before they're forced to submit to the enemy."

More than just a flash of surprise then and Joker laughed nervously, "Okaay...I don't know how you know that. Seriously, how do you know that?"

"It's what I would do. The Shepards have gone out of their way to lay siege to Rannoch, it would be nice to know why and stop them." He mused, rubbing his chin against his hands, which were loosely clasped before him, elbows resting on the table. "I imagine the geth wish they hadn't dismantled their dreadnoughts in accordance with the peace treaty between their peoples."

He let his mind unravel the shape of it all, even though much of it was still occluded, he could understand this one facet of it. Rannoch, it wasn't a stronghold, it was no more resource rich than a million uninhabited, more accessible worlds, it wasn't a planet that regularly manufactured armaments, it wasn't even strategically placed in the cosmos. The former Vagabonds and Spectres that he was sure made up the core of the enemy ranks wouldn't waste their time on it if it weren't significant in some other respect and with any luck, the lack of...whatever it was would be crippling to them. Or at least a severe setback. "The planetary defense grid must still be active or they'd be occupied already. If I were the geth, I'd be building ships below the planet's surface. And primes, lots of primes. Maybe some war machines, armatures, cannons. The blockade will be stuck in orbit, unable to leave, unable to land, all their tech useless groundside. But the geth can't get past them because of the jump drive. A stalemate, but something's shifting. What's missing? There's something new out there. While we've been reacting, they've been acting and while they are a bunch of traitors, lazy, they are not. So what could it be? Something big, well armed, but not primarily a weapon, they have plenty of cruisers, destroyers and things. This would be...something else. Something the Council would kill to get their hands on. A key."

There was silence as he lapsed into thought and a woman's voice broke over the comms, "Wow, you weren't kidding, T'soni."

He jumped in his seat and Joker said with a fair amount of chagrin, "Sorry, patched you through upstairs. Thought they needed to hear this."

The crew of the 'Rigger was looking at him with something approaching awe and Simp chuckled, "I think that's the most I've ever heard ye say at once, Marcus."

Marcus ducked his head, undeserving of praise, "I think that's the most I've said at once in a year."

They laughed at this and he felt a fleeting sense of warmth, quickly banished. He knew better than to get attached. Assuming he found the means, he'd be leaving them to pursue his own demons.

He heard muffled conversation through the comms and that woman barked again, "Corporal, bring our guests to the war room. We need some fresh perspective."


	9. Chapter 9

Vega led her to the war room, a depressed bowl of a room with a holo display in its center, a brightly lit circle around which the remains of Shepard's ragtag crew clustered like it was a jolly little campfire, only their grim faces belied that illusion. Her eyes flicked around the room, trying to find a familiar stern countenance and grimacing when her search failed to turn up one prothean sneer or barbed glare. Hopes crushed, she took an empty space in their circular conference. She met the gazes of each of the tired veterans in turn.

Massani tilted his head in rueful greeting and she smiled tightly. Vega leaned on the console, face stiff with some emotion that was hard to place, the woman to his right, a hooded figure whose painted lips were all that could be seen of her face, put her hand on his shoulder and he shot her a grateful look. To that woman's right, another familiar sight, the craggy shape of Grunt and she almost shouted in greeting, but stopped herself as she took in his faraway look. He was just staring into space, giving her the briefest of nods before returning to his thoughts. Next to him, a middle aged woman whose hair was buzzed down to the scalp, body showing a lifetime's collection of tattoos, her face a glower of determination. There were a few lines on her face, more likely the product of worry than time, but Susan could see that Jack was as fiery as ever, her eyes a volatile soup of conflicting feelings and Susan could see that that in itself caused her more anger.

"Can we get on with this?" Vega said, clipped and harsh.

Jack held up her hand, "We're waiting on three more. Joker, where's Jacob and the ambassador?"

"On their way, you know these elevators." A male voice rolled over the comms, "Gahd, you know, it's a lot roomier in here than I thought it'd be. Feel like my inner dialogue should echo."

The door slid open to reveal a deeply lined dark face and Susan thought to herself how old Jacob seemed, how much of a toll his ordeal must have taken and then realized that it wasn't Jacob at all, but a different dark skinned human with stark white hair cut close to the scalp. Just as she thought this, Jacob stepped out from behind the man with a red haired woman on his arm. Susan recognized the doctor that was treating him,_ correction, still treating him,_ she thought to herself as the doctor injected him with something. Jacob sighed as whatever it was took effect, his demeanor visibly calming.

The older human limped past her and took a space next to Jack, nodding to the tattooed woman, "Jack."

"Anderson." She replied with a sardonic lilt, but the pair smiled at each other like they shared a private joke. Susan was sure there was no shortage of these among this close group.

Susan turned at a touch on her elbow. Jacob looked at her, "You're the one that found Miranda."

She nodded, "I am."

"And she's...free, right?" His voice shook and he took a moment to breath and she resisted the urge to comfort him, and gave him the kindest smile she could muster.

"I made sure of that." Relief flooded that man's face and Susan turned to the gathering, "I'm Susan T'soni, but I'm sure you all knew that already."

"In better times, you'd have a much warmer welcome aboard the Normandy, Miss T'soni. As Liara's daughter, you'd have been more than welcome." Anderson sighed. "Well, we might as well get started. As an envoy from the Council, I've been given certain leeway in regards to sanctioning certain actions, under the table of course. We can't act openly, as yet, as much as I'd like to shove my boot up the Theocracy's collective ass. So, if Miss T'soni would be so kind."

"The Shadow Broker sends this data packet with his regards." She plugged in the OSD copy she'd made from the data given to her through her omnitool along with the cipher to decode it. It flooded the screens around her, on every console and holo display. She'd been told to wait for this meeting before opening it and was just as eager as the people in this room with her to see what it was.

A battle, footage from many ships in a firefight and she watched as the enemy's smaller ships flickered in and out of realspace, using that jump drive to deadly effectiveness, picking apart the Council fleet sent to protect the colonized planet that was a bluish green backdrop for this fight. Something caught her eye in the far distance, something that seemed to loom over this battlefield even though it was little more than a speck in the dark. She pointed, "What is that?"

The screen froze and that quadrant was expanded until it filled the screen. The silhouette of a ship of some kind, though ungainly, and oddly shaped. Anderson sighed again, "I've seen it before. This is classified intel that your Shadow Broker mined from our databanks, though seeing as how that's supposed to be impossible...You know what, forget I said anything. This...thing, and ones like it, have been spotted during every engagement we've had with the enemy for the last few months. We haven't been able to get in close enough to identify exactly what it is, we only have a bit of sensor data on their energy signature. But the brass at the head of the militaries have taken to calling it a command carrier."

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but you gotta hear this." Joker's voice broke in over the comms, "I'm down in the mess right now and that Marcus guy, holy shit, he's smart."

With an audible click, more voices joined Joker's, _'...__They've mobilized and the borders are looking pretty shaky. While we hide and cower here on the margins, the occupied colonies suffer and more get picked off around the edges."_

_"Why doesn't the Council do something? Where's their armada?" _That had to be Rahz.

_"We don't have a counter to their technology. That jump drive they use gives them an overwhelming advantage in any firefight." _Joker said thoughtfully_, "Even I've had to run on occasion."_

_"Imagine planning an offensive only to find your forces flanked at every turn, routed before they can even bring their guns to bear. Brute strength isn't going to win this one. You have a course of action." _Marcus stated matter of factly and she swore she could hear the wheels turning in his head.

Joker coughed, "Yes,_ they're talking about it now. See, they, um the Shepards, took something. Or rather, someone, and we think they plan on using...her...to get what they want from a certain besieged planet. But we don't know where she is, or how to find her."_

A short pause and then, "So_ you want to break the siege at Rannoch. Free the geth and the quarians before they're forced to submit to the enemy."_

Every eye turned to her in surprise and she shrugged, secretly proud of Marcus' ability to astound, "He's more than just smart, he's brilliant."

Joker again spoke, "Okaay...I_ don't know how you know that. Seriously, how do you know that?"_

_"It's what I would do. The Shepards have gone out of their way to lay siege to Rannoch, it would be nice to know why and stop them. I imagine the geth wish they hadn't dismantled their dreadnoughts in accordance with the peace treaty between their peoples."_

There was a longer pause this time and the company leaned towards the comms, enthralled,_ "The planetary defense grid must still be active or they'd be occupied already. If I were the geth, I'd be building ships below the planet's surface. And primes, lots of primes. Maybe some war machines, armatures, cannons. The blockade will be stuck in orbit, unable to leave, unable to land, all their tech useless groundside. But the geth can't get past them because of the jump drive. A stalemate, but something's shifting. What's missing? There's something new out there. While we've been reacting, they've been acting and while they are a bunch of traitors, lazy, they are not. So what could it be? Something big, well armed, but not primarily a weapon, they have plenty of cruisers, destroyers and things. This would be...something else. Something the Council would kill to get their hands on. A key."_

"Wow, you weren't kidding, T'soni." Jack was almost surprised to hear her words echo over the comm in the mess, but recovered with aplomb, glancing around as the men in the mess continued to talk in low conversation. She cut the outgoing comms and turned to Anderson when he laid both hands on the console, brows furrowed.

"How does he know about Rannoch? You said there were no leaks on your boat." Anderson threw a sharp glance at Vega, who shrugged noncommitally, bridling slightly at the implied insult.

"Yeah, cuz they've had so much time to infiltrate our systems. They've been on the Normandy for what, half an hour?"

"Don't take that tone with me, _Acting _Captain-"

"I don't have to take orders from you,_ ex_-Admiral, seeing as how we're all AWOL anyway. Might as well turn pira-" He was interrupted by a loud 'BWAMP' as Jack lit up like a torch, her biotics lifting every unsecured item smaller than a person in the vicinity and threw them at the wall, where they clattered cacophonously before falling to the ground.

Susan felt the rush of the mass effect fields glide over her skin and felt her tentacles want to twitch, she suppressed the urge with an inward shove. Everyone was silenced by the display and Jack, a satisfied smirk on her face, leaned toward them all.

"Some days I just want to space you all, but then I think, hey, what would Shepard do? I think she'd entertain the thought of spacing you all and then, because she was a sadist sometimes, she'd just talk you to death until you agreed just to shut her up. So, shall I do the same? Because we're fucked if we don't get some help out here. We've been fucked for quite some time, running away from the people she saved the damn galaxy for. Looking at it now, I'm not sure why she bothered to save us at all." Shame flowed around the room, in every face and Jack looked at Susan, "This Marcus, who is he?"

Susan opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, not sure what to say. She didn't know if it was her story to tell. Massani grunted, taking the burden neatly off her hands, "This is Marcus Vakarian, we're talking about, isn't it, T'soni? Thought I recognized the voice."

Utter silence fell in that room, every eye was on her and she felt the blood rush to her face as she nodded, reluctantly.

Jack opened the comms and spoke, "Corporal, bring our guests to the war room. We need some fresh perspective."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

Ten minutes and a few complaints about the slow elevator later, and the small group of merc shuffled into the room, blinking in the dark at them in their bright circle of lights, she saw how in awe they were, but was gratified that it was the normal sort, not the 'start an intergalactic jihad' sort that had started this mess in the first place. Everyone at the conference straightened slightly under the stunned gazes of the mercs. Marcus came in last and Susan saw how his eyes darted into every corner, every shadow, calculating, assessing before finally coming to rest on the figures below, coolly detached and wary.

"Joker, where are you?" Jack said, irritation in her voice.

"I'm here. I never left." Came back the voice in the comms with a touch of consternation in its tone.

"You know what I mean, where's your bod-aw, just forget it." Flustered, she threw her hands into the air, "Never gonna get used to talking to machines."

Anderson cleared his throat, "Well, you all obviously know who we are. Who are you?"

Simp was pushed forward slightly and wrung his hands a bit, looking more like a scared kid than a hardened mercenary and Susan felt a pang for his awkwardness. The man grimaced and said, "Not much of anyone really. Just gentlemen of fortune, ye ken."

Massani laughed, his voice a gravelly rumble, "Soldiers for hire, pioneering entrepreneurs in the ever expanding industry of mercenary work. Madcaps, swashbucklers, opportunists."

"Yeah, that." Simp smiled a mad grin, "All that...with bells on."

Errol made a disapproving sound from behind him, muttering in displeased tones, "Swashbuckler, indeed."

Simp muttered back in a low angry hiss, "Just cuz I ain't never buckled no swashes don't mean I can't. Shut it."

"Ah...gentlemen, I meant what are your names?" Anderson said, bemused.

"Well, I'm Simp, this's Errol, Martin and Rahz, who is quieter than I can ever recall him being." Suddenly aware of being sidetracked, Simp ducked his head and sputtered, "Oh, and that's Marcus."

Susan saw how the 'Rigger's crew stood slightly apart from Marcus, as though he was about to explode or had some contagious disease. Maybe his outburst downstairs had rattled these simple men. Not that they were stupid in any way, but their concerns rarely went beyond their own hull. This whole thing was rather new to them and Susan lamented the fact that they were now dragged in and sighed.

"Vakarian, good to see you again." Massani growled goodnaturedly and Marcus winced, visibly, before acknowledging the greeting.

"Sector Chief Massani." Marcus was surprised to see the human, alive and his mandibles parted in shock, "I thought they had you."

"Well, they did. I was trussed up good, then tossed in a cell on some moon. Didn't know which, didn't care about much beyond the next meal and escaping. Our Susan broke me out." The old merc nodded toward Susan, who glanced at Marcus guiltily.

Marcus focused on her sharply, then let out a shaky breath. Of course, she'd succeeded where he'd failed. His curiosity was piqued however and he thought that maybe he might venture to ask her what exactly happened after the explosion that, at the time, he'd been sure killed her.

Beside him, the crew of the 'Rigger were arguing quietly and he saw Errol shooting him dark looks as he huddled with Simp. He caught words, 'Vakarian', 'primarch', 'vagabonds', being among them and cringed inwardly, wishing he'd never left Omega. Simp laughed at something Martin said and Errol just closed his mouth, tightly clenching his mandibles.

"Look, we can all sit around and trade stories later. Right now, I want to know how you know about Rannoch." Jack said, pointing a finger in his direction aggressively. Next to her, Anderson also nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Marcus felt a touch of resentment, seems everyone wanted something from him, except maybe Susan, or maybe he just hadn't worked out what she wanted. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He leaned back against a wall and mirrored Anderson's defensive stance, "How I know about the blockade or how I know that you intend to try to break it?"

"Both." Jack, Vega and Anderson said in unison, shooting each other angry looks.

Martin muttered something next to him that sounded suspiciously like, "Too many chiefs, not enough indians."

He didn't know what indians were, but the meaning was clear and he grudgingly agreed. But did he really want to get drawn into this? He had no real interest in anything beyond getting justice for Paulus. His eye was drawn to Susan, who watched him with gentle understanding and had to correct himself yet again. He had no real interest in anything but killing Aleia and keeping Susan safe, like he'd failed to do before. Both of those were for his dead brother, so he could forgive himself not caring about the bigger picture.

"Just...worked it out. I had a geth in my crew, sent him back to his people a few months ago. Found myself wondering from time to time if he'd made it past the blockade. He was my friend." Just the bare facts, just what was necessary and he watched them digest the words slowly, "The rest...is just tactics."

Vega snorted, "Just tactics, he says. Like it's easy as breathing. Genetics are a hell of a thing."

The lady doctor spoke up from where she was observing, "I agree. The resemblance is startling."

Jack eyed him sharply, taking in all of him in a sweeping glance, her lip curling slightly, "Physically, maybe. Everything else...no."

And then she turned her back on him and Marcus wondered why it made a stab of pain run through him. It's not like he deserved their respect anyway, but it did hurt that these friends of his uncle's saw him as he was now. The broken, pitiful thing he was now. He couldn't pretend it didn't hurt.

"Back to business. This is what we're looking at. Council is calling it a command carrier." Anderson gestured to the holos, where the image still swam, magnified. "Battlefield data that was collected from wreckage near each engagement zone shows one of these at the edge of every single battle, each has its own unique energy signature. We don't know what they do other than act as a fuel depot and dock for their fighters. Seeing as a cruiser is what typically fulfills this function, it is quite the anomaly."

"This is your key?" Marcus asked, looking at the dark silhouette. It was a vaguely familiar shape but he just couldn't place where he'd seen the like.

"That's our hope." Anderson said, running a hand over his neatly clipped white hair. He settled into a comfortable parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, "The Council can't move against them openly, not without sparking an all out offensive, but seeing how many of their ships are starting to cluster around the relays at the border, it appears that they are planning to do so anyway. Not in least because of a very public and unprovoked attack against their command at Omega. There was rioting for days."

Guilty thoughts filled him as every eye pinned him to the wall he was leaning against. He resisted the urge to writhe there, or run for it. Susan had worked her way slowly to his side and he nearly started as her hand squeezed his elbow and he winced away from her in shame.

Massani said, "Best bit of wetwork I seen in awhile, flashy and dirty, just the way I like it. Oh and that Archangel bit, when I seen that on the scrap of paper they were wavin' about, I just about crapped myself laughing. Priceless. And then, when it was you, oh, too much-"

Jack laughed, "Yeah? Wonder what Ga-"

Grunt interrupted with a growl, "Tangents, distractions, get back to the point, Anderson."

They settled down and the old human coughed into his hand, "One of our deep space scouts caught this on the edges of their sensors-"

He pulled up some readings, and they all saw a purple spike, right in the middle of the 3D graph, with smaller yellow and orange ones around it, in a flaring pattern, long thin shapes that tapered and bent toward the middle. The pattern was repeated, the same each time. The hooded woman spoke up for the first time, her voice low and musing, "It looks like a chrysanthemum."

"Huh, it does kinda look like a flower." Joker's disembodied voice commented from above. "Anyway, it's one of your command carriers. I've checked its signal against the others and this, well, it's a new one."

"Where is it headed?" Susan asked and Marcus was surprised that she didn't know. He did.

"Rannoch. And there's probably one there already." Anderson said, looking around at the assemblage. "I've come to ask you for help. Not that we haven't asked enough of you all, but because we really don't have too many options. And we certainly don't have the time. The third fleet is already amassed beyond the Perseus Veil, undetectable and waiting. We can't just let them have Rannoch. It's somehow central to their plans."

The group went silent and Marcus read uncertainty in every line of their faces. Vega leaned forward, shaking his head, "No. What can we do, Anderson? We're just seven old soldiers, past our prime. I told, no, I _promised_, Kaidan I'd keep you all safe and while I might not have been able to keep him from getting taken, haven't I done that, at least? I won't take this old ship with its obsolete weapons and shielding into an unwinnable fight."

The mercs clustered at the one end shuffled, Susan was sure their faith in these heroes was shaken. Simp said it plain, "But you defeated the Reapers, aye?"

Vega glared at them, these interlopers, "No..._Shepard _defeated the Reapers and look what they've done to her memory. Why should we do anything for any of them?"

An uncomfortable silence fell and Susan spoke, "I'll go."

All of them turned to her with incredulity and she shrugged, "They have my mother."

Guilt again, on every careworn face and she spoke again, looking at each of them in turn. Grunt was the only one to meet her gaze squarely and she saw a proud flicker in his bright blue eyes, "They have your comrades, your friends. They're doing things to them right now that you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. I've seen it. I still have nightmares about hearing Miranda's dead body whisper in the dark. In...my arms. Her pulse might have been gone, but she was still theirs to play with. She kept on whispering even as I burned her body to ash."

She took a deep, steadying breath and it was Marcus' turn to offer a warm hand on her elbow and she smiled at him grateful, though her nerves were fraying around the edges and she turned back to the Normandy's crew and everyone in that room and let her anger and fear fill her gaze until they blazed with it, her voice filling the room to the brim, though she barely spoke above a low deadly murmur, "They have my mother and by the Goddess, I will get her back."

She saw determination alight in all of their eyes and was sad and joyful at the same time. Sad that these precious people would be put at risk, joyful that they seemed to have found some of their fire again. Vega clenched his hands on the console, his breathing a little shaky, and he said resignedly, "How are we going to do this?"

"We do what we do best. Go in guns blazing, maybe we'll get lucky and get blown to hell before they can catch us and make pincushions out of us." Jack crowed, eagerness for battle in the way she flung her hands to and fro.

"No."

Marcus found himself the center of attention again and cleared his throat nervously. The stares were turning hostile and Jack said, sharply, "What do you mean, no?"

"I just-...there's a better way." Why was he volunteering even this much? His mind yelled at him for his impetuousness. _ It's none of my business, I have just one job to do, the last one._ But what else could he do in the face of Susan's bravery? It shamed him that while he only thought to kill, she'd been on a rescue mission this whole time. He was so unworthy and yet he couldn't bear the thought of her riding off into a hopeless battle with so little in the way of protection. He could do this for her, at least.

"Explain, then. Don't leave us hanging." Joker said, cajolingly.

"The geth." They still looked puzzled and he clarified, "A joint assault on two fronts with decoys. The Third Fleet from without, the geth from within. When they are fully engaged and committed, two strike teams hit the carriers, small insertion squads. From the analysis of your past battles they showed us at the academy, you're used to working in small teams, correct?"

"Uh, yeah. Teams of three usually, sometimes four or five." Vega said, eyeing him now with some small bit of respect. He shied away from it though. He was doing this for Susan, that was all.

"You need the carriers and you need to free Rannoch. Those are the primary objectives, yes? Then you have to assume that the carriers know that you're eventually going to target one of them. I'm certain one of the reasons they're so far out from the actual combat is so that they can retreat quickly if attacked or call for reinforcements. That means that the carriers are vulnerable. If they were unassailable, why hide them? If they were unnecessary, why bring them at all? They'd be a hindrance unless..."

"...They needed them to win. Oh, that's genius." The hooded woman hummed in approval, her eyes just two twinkling stars in the gloom of her cowl.

"Won't work." Anderson said with a frown. "We'll never get the Normandy in close enough. Any time we've approached one of those things, no matter how shielded and cloaked, they just teleport away. It's like trying to catch a mirage."

"You shouldn't bring the Normandy anyway. Once she's revealed in combat, she'll be targeted by the host of the enemy. They know what chariot their 'apostles' ride in." Susan smiled at the colorful wordage, beaming a small smile at Marcus, pleased at how involved he seemed to be getting. There was in his eyes a ghost of the man he used to be and it warmed her to see it. The others hung on his every word, though he seemed mostly oblivious to it.

"So, how?" Jack said, scratching her head, "And how are we going to coordinate with the geth and quarians? We're completely cut off from them."

"Hmmm." Thoughts flickered furiously in Marcus' eyes as he pondered, letting his imagination flow freely, rejecting many of his initial ideas as implausible or unrealistically complicated. One was working its way to the forefront though and it grew more and more solid as it coalesced into an interesting notion and he turned his awareness outward to see eleven pairs of eyes watching him and felt his neck warm with chagrin. He coughed, "Do you know how turian cruisers used to bombard planets with asteroids?"

"Yeah, your people won quite a few engagements during the First Contact War that way, though I don't know if 'scorched earth' is really winning." Anderson managed to not sound bitter at all. Marcus was sure he'd been there, if he was any judge of human ages.

"No, I mean, do you know how they do it?" Errol made a noise of interest from somewhere to his right and he flicked his gaze over there for an instant, but the turian's face was carefully blank, though he nodded just a fraction. At least someone here knew where he was going with this. "We used a specialized form of mass effect field, kind of like a docking web. We trapped the rock in the web, then some careful maneuvering and inertia takes care of the rest. It's very...efficient, at least in its use of manpower to firepower."

"Efficient is not the word I'd use. Brutal, or thorough, those are closer I think. I saw the aftermath firsthand." Now there was a touch of some negative emotion there and Marcus ignored it. He had plenty of sins on his conscience, but the atrocities committed by his forebears, he refused to burden himself with. "So what about this docking web then?"

"We build a box, something that can withstand hitting atmo, something small enough to aim with accuracy. We put in information on when to strike and where. We find a rock big enough to hide it but not so big that it won't mostly burn away in the atmosphere. It lands in Chak'tal, their machine city, someone's bound to investigate and then you'll have your second fleet."

"Neat." Vega said, "What about the carriers?"

"So, it teleports away when it detects a ship incoming?" At their nods, he sighed. This one was going to be a lot harder for them to swallow. "Then we won't use a ship. I don't see why we can't do that the same way."


	10. Chapter 10

He was seriously reconsidering the plan, now that he was here, in this tiny, tiny shuttle, barely big enough for the four people in it. Or at least reconsidering the part where he was involved. But he quelled his inner coward by looking at Susan over there, an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face. He'd been observing her over the last few days, trying to reconcile the Susan in his memory with this Susan in his present. On the surface, they were much the same, they burned with a deep energy, they moved in the same quick, but graceful manner, they laughed much the same, but this Susan seemed so much older, and there were secrets, dark secrets swimming around in her pale jade eyes.

Marcus shivered at the memory of the story she'd told about Miranda. How she'd endured that horror relatively unscathed was a mystery, but he'd never doubted that she had a reservoir of strength under that goodnatured smile. How he envied her. Where he'd shattered, she'd been tempered and inwardly, he rejoiced that one of them had survived.

Tension filled him, he wasn't sure he could do this. Be part of a group again and he rested his rifle on his forehead, trying to cool his fevered brow. He wouldn't have to lead, that was a comfort. Just follow, just obey. He could try anyway. Try to trust. The mantra gave him no ease and he fluttered his mandibles in anxiety.

"We're coming up on the drop point." Joker's voice came over the comms. "The other team is halfway through their parabola."

There was silence as they put on their helmets, checking each other's equipment so that suit malfunction would be the the least of their worries. The slim woman in black whose helmet hid all of her face now pulled a piece of cloth from one of her zippered pouches and brought it to her face. Susan asked, "What is that, Kasumi?"

There was a smile in the woman's voice as she replied, "It is a Hinomaru."

Kasumi held it up and spread it out and Susan could see that it was white with a large red circle on it. There were scrawled words in some exotic language all around the circle, extending out to the edges like rays. Sun rays, she realized what it was supposed to be. A sun on a white field, "Is that a flag?"

Now the woman's tone was secretive, "Think of it like a good luck charm."

"I can see why the Japanese used it. Easy to spot on a battlefield, easy to rally around. Red on white, blood on snow." Massani ground out from behind his own mask.

"How poetic, Zaeed. You are a charmer, aren't you?" The human sighed and tucked her token away, "I think we need all the luck we can get at this point. This plan...I thought I was crazy."

"It is a bit mad, and that's something coming from a man who once rode a thresher maw into a Blue Sun's outpost." Zaeed patted his pockets, pulling his cigarettes out to make sure they were there with him and with a relieved grunt, he packed them away again, "Hell of thing for a man to die without his smokes. ...Are we really going to do this?"

Susan spoke, confidence pouring off of her, "Yes."

That steadied their nerves, Marcus saw. Joker spoke in their helmets, "You ready, kids?"

"Who you callin' a kid, kid?" Massani growled, making Susan and Kasumi chuckle.

"Alright you old fucker, is that better?"

"Much."

"I'm opening the door, you'll get sucked out, but don't panic. I can always scoop you back up, if I need to. When the mass accelerator takes hold, you're going to feel all kinds of weird. Just relax and enjoy the ride. But I regret to inform you that due to technical difficulties, there won't be an inflight movie."

"Just do it, and shut your gob."

"It'll help the disorientation if you align yourself with the shuttle's hull before we get flung." Marcus said, doing just that as they were pushed out into the void by escaping atmosphere. He reached out and stopped Susan from going into an uncontrolled spin, compensating by firing his maneuvering jets just for a second.

Then it was like a great hand enfolded them, one that seemed to reach through their suits and set each nerve ending on fire, a maddening tingling that covered them from head to toe. Marcus gritted his teeth against the sensation and heard Susan gasp through their shortwave channel. Then they were moving, just moving. It was hard to tell just how fast in this frictionless emptiness, but Marcus knew objectively that they were speeding along at thousands of meters a second. Their objective crawled toward them. Even at these speeds, it would take half an hour to reach their target.

He turned his head to see how the other two were doing. Kasumi twisted this way and that to take it all in and Zaeed looked like a man at his leisure, reclined on nothing, legs crossed, hands behind his head. Massani laughed, "In space, no one can hear you shit your pants."

The other two laughed at that and Marcus felt his mandible spread in humor, well far as it could in his rather restrictive helmet, "Well, this is the easy part. Lucky that we had Accha and Joker to calculate our precise trajectories."

"Yeah, landing's always the tricky bit." Massani sighed, "I might take a little nap until the shooting starts."

Kasumi laughed, "Old man, better do it now. Don't want you snoozing while you're supposed to be watching my six."

"Oh, little darling, I'll watch your six any day. Don't think I haven't noticed that you're starting to look like a grown woman and not a little girl."

"Oh, that's an original approach. Mention of advancing age as a come on. Kinky." Kasumi teased, her tone coquettish.

"You wear a lot of leather to not like kinky. Anyway, where'd you run off to the last two months? I thought Vega was gonna rupture a vein."

"As if he doesn't every time. I can't stay cooped up on that ship forever. I have a life. I have things to do."

"You have places to rob and things to steal, you mean."

Susan snorted, "You're a thief?"

"I prefer the term Interpretive Artist with a Talent for...um, Misappropriation."

"She steals stuff, she's a thief." Massani said, with a chuff. "Plus I think she was huntin' down her beau again. You'd think she'd get the hint. The man keeps running away."

Susan was taken aback, was this the thief? Bau's thief? "Is this man a, um, salarian?"

"You met my Bau-san? Where? Illium? Sur'Kesh? Thessia?" The thief's tone was urgent and she 'swam' toward Susan with little success.

Marcus said warningly, "Don't. Wouldn't take much to steer us off course, then we'd be shooting through empty space until our O2 ran out."

She subsided her flailing and waved at Susan to speak.

"...Omega. Actually, that's where we dropped him off."

"When we get back, you have to tell me everything." Kasumi pleaded, then sighed, "I knew I should have ignored that message from Feron to come back. I was so close..."

"Speaking of close. We're coming up on the carrier rather quickly." There was a note of almost panic in the man's voice as he pointed ahead of them.

Susan steadied herself silently, this was her part in the plan. The hull of the ship loomed ahead and she thought back to what Joker had said to do._ "You'll have to make a 'soft' zone for your team to land in, something that completely negates your momentum or you'll end up a sticky paste if you crash into the hull at those speeds. The maneuvering jets will help, but they just don't have the juice to counter the forces at work. It's up to you and Jack to get your teams onto those ships safely."_

"Be ready with your magboots." Marcus said as Susan started weaving her arms in a mimetic. She could do this without but didn't want to risk it. She felt the nodes in her body alight one by one and the power flowed along her arms and out in front of her, creating the glowing orb of a singularity on the hull before them. The four of them plunged into its heart and stilled, the tingling sensation making her twitch in her suit and a warmth spread to her face and...other places. It rushed along her veins, almost sexually exciting and she bit her lip as her tentacles began a dance of their own, glad it was hidden in her helmet. Marcus reached out and squeezed her shoulder, "Perfect."

"Uh, Susan? Got a little pro-" The asari turned and saw Kasumi at the far edge of the singularity, the orb had completely reversed her direction and she was drifting away at an alarming pace and she could tell that the human was starting to panic, her arms flailing.

"Don't panic! Give me a minute to think-" Marcus was saying, but Susan was already moving, she'd landed on the hull and was moving in another mimetic. He stopped to watch her as she spun and wove patterns around her, moving with confidence. She was impressive, he was impressed.

Susan wasn't quite sure what she was doing, only that it had to be done. It was pure instinct that moved her and she coaxed the nodes in her flesh into a new configuration and gasped as she felt it snap into place and something like the docking web that had flung them into space reached out and snagged Kasumi from a prolonged, but certain death, drawing her back to them. Susan felt sweat bead up and roll down her face inside the suit and sagged in exhaustion as Kasumi's magboots came in contact with the ship.

The human woman reached out and hugged her close, "Whew! Thought I was a goner. Thanks for saving my ass."

Susan hugged her back, "Any time."

"If you two are done being emotional, can we please crack on?" Zaeed said, arms crossed over his yellow chestplate.

Marcus pulled his rifle free, feeling better for having it in his hands and turned to the others, "Anyone spot an airlock as we approached?"

"I saw something over there as I was flying away." Kasumi pointed and the team moved in that direction, Massani leading, Susan watching their rear. She watched Marcus' back as they ran, saw how his head tilted to take in all their surroundings, trying to watch all the angles at once. Impossible, but that was what he was trying to do instead of letting the others do their jobs. She understood, it was a trust issue. She'd had the same in the few months...after. It would take time, she knew.

This ship was immense, and strangely shaped. It was clearly never meant to enter an atmosphere. The shearing alone would tear something like this apart in seconds. It was in no way aerodynamic, with its jutting spires and four 'towers' or 'legs' or whatever the creators of this thing had thought to call them when it was built. Maybe he could figure out the why of it if he saw blueprints or a 3D holo of the whole thing, but for now it was completely undiscernable and he couldn't help the nagging feeling that he'd been on something like this before, that it was familiar somehow.

He was glad that these people had obviously had some sort of zero-g training as they changed orientation a lot on this hike. They seemed comfortable without a local horizontal to anchor their perception. Oftentimes terrestrial people found it difficult to maneuver in space because there was no 'up' or 'down', no horizon to shape their perspective. Of course, why he thought that these particular people would be vulnerable to that failing, he didn't know. He wondered if technology had moved in a different direction, if artificial gravity had never been invented, then would people have eventually adapted completely to null gravity, if architecture would have completely changed, what would happen if people ceased to worry about concepts like 'up' or 'down'.

But no, it was better to have gravity. It was very bad for a flesh and blood body that had been designed to exist on a terrestrial world to spend too much time in space. Muscle and bone degeneration being chief among them, he was sure. He shook himself free of his fanciful thoughts with a frown and focused on the task at hand, gripping his rifle closer as they encountered what he was sure was an airlock. Kasumi got to work unlocking the door. He froze as a thought occurred to him.

Susan pulled up aside him, "What is it, Marcus?"

Marcus looked at her sidelong, though he knew she couldn't see it and said, "How many of these things did Anderson say there were?"

"Five, no six distinct signatures, now. Why?" Massani said, curiously.

It was intuition, just a gut feeling that now tempted him to ask, "And how many 'apostles' have they taken?"

Silence fell as his implication struck home and Kasumi worked even faster to hack the lock. Massani shifted nervously as he growled, "No, that can't be right. The numbers don't add up."

"There's only four missing..." Susan said, looking back and forth between all of them, "...isn't there?"

Kasumi paused and then continued splicing as she spoke, "They took EDI."

"Who is EDI?" Marcus asked.

"EDI is an AI. She used to be the Normandy, or was in it. I dunno, opinions differ on that issue. That's beside the point. It's only been a week. You can't build something like this in a week. The logistics, man."

Marcus hummed in thought, "What if it was already built? What if there's one built for each of you?"

Ominous silence this time as each thought about this horrifying possibility. Zaeed shook his head and his voice when it drifted to them was low and angry, "No..no, no, no. This is not the sort of retirement home I was thinking about. Dammit, Goto! When are you going to be done fiddling with that door?"

"Look, they've begun the assault." Susan said, pointing out at the blue planet of Rannoch and the bright lights flaring around it, lasers and missiles, she knew, despite how pretty it was from this far away. People were fighting and dying over there.

"I'm bypassing security protocols so that opening the door won't trigger the alarm. And...there." Kasumi stood back and the airlock opened, a rush of air blasting past them to frost in the void. They climbed in and waited for the airlock to cycle. The thief hummed, "So, if your theory is true and EDI is on 'Chrysanthemum', which Vega and the others are probably finding out right now..."

Susan was smiling at the woman's frivolous, but apt description. Kasumi had taken to calling the carriers by the names of what their energy signatures looked like. She wondered what the Shepards called them. The inner airlock door slid open with barely a sound and the asari yanked her helmet off, gratefully, she hated full face helmets.

Kasumi's musing voice filled the air as she continued, "...Then who is on 'lotus'?"

The team looked down the darkened corridor with trepidation and Susan gritted her teeth, feeling the muscles in her jaw twitch. She didn't quite dare to hope that her mother was on this ship and she pulled out her two pistols, checking their heatsinks with a grim but satisfied smile, "Let's go find out."

Massani lit a smoke and a feral smile lifted his lips at the first drag and he growled joyfully, "Right."

* * *

They were well into the ship, searching room by room and still no contact with the enemy. Marcus was starting to feel his tenuous control stretch, this felt too much like another place, a bad place. The walls were pressing in on him and he started at every sound. His mind started worrying at it like a varren with a bone, and he couldn't quite quell the thought that one of the three people beside him might be planning something, some betrayal. No matter how viciously he denied it, logic was abandoning him. He trembled and hoped they didn't see.

"Marcus?" Susan whispered to him and he swung his head around in panic, fixating on her in barely hidden fear.

She'd been watching him grow steadily twitchier ahead of her, head shifting this way and that and was taken aback when his rolling, darting eyes turned at the sound of her voice. They didn't even seem to be looking at her, but into the past and she could guess at what. She sped up her walk until she was more beside him than behind and reached out to squeeze his elbow, the joints were the only soft parts in a hardsuit and under her hand, she felt him shudder. He breathed, "It was a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

Susan shot a look ahead and saw that Massani and Kasumi hadn't heard and leaned in close to Marcus, "Look at me."

Those blue eyes did find hers after she watched him visibly wrench them into compliance and she slowly reached up and put her hand to his mandible, which quivered and fluttered. The skin between the plates was fevered and slick with sweat and she said, "You are here, this is now. You can do this."

Faith blazed from her eyes up at him and again, he felt unworthy but he scraped up what little resolve he had left in the bottom of his soul and breathed a steadying breath, closing his eyes and just breathing for a moment. He wasn't on that moon, he wasn't about to feel his heart get ripped to pieces, hell, what more could happen to it, the worst had already happened. Hadn't he felt the shards of it grind in him like broken glass? Susan was right, now is not then. A rush of gratitude filled him and he put his hand over hers as he opened his eyes, swallowing back the dark tide of doubt for now.

Warmth filled her as she watched him gain a bit of sanity back, she could only hope that he wasn't too far gone and then he leaned into her hand and cupped it in his own and her breath caught in her throat as his eyes glowed softly in grateful relief down at her. Then, she was suddenly aware of how warm his hand was on hers, how pleasant the rougness of his palms was.

He rumbled, "Susan, I'm s-"

"Contact." Came the quiet voice of Kasumi ahead and the pair started from where they'd paused in the corridor and Marcus was the first to move, his stride quickening to an easy lope, Susan hard on his heels. They came around a corner into a room busy with activity and Massani waved them down behind some crates. They dropped side by side and peered cautiously out.

The room was full of mechs of all different types but she spotted the bright red of Theocracy ground troops in the back as well. It looked like a hangar and they were prepping for the return of their ships. Were they retreating? Or just refueling? She hoped that it was the former and their joint forces around Rannoch were winning, but if they were, then that put a serious dent in the time they had left to explore this command carrier. She looked to Massani, who grinned in grim delight.

The ancient merc pointed out a catwalk above and Marcus nodded, it would make a sublime sniper's nest and he crept off to climb up there. Zaeed turned to find Kasumi already gone and shrugged, Susan smiled as the man held his hand out to her like he was requesting a dance and he jerked his head in the enemy's direction. She nodded in gracious acceptance and the pair slid out of cover at the same time, he opened up with his assault rifle and she lit up with her biotics, using every crowd control she had as the enemy forces before her scrambled to defend themselves from this unexpected attack.

Bodies were suspended in multiple singularities around her, a single shot from her or from Marcus above finishing most. She heard explosions ahead from where she assumed Massani was working through the ranks of mechs and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flicker of Kasumi as she danced in and out of her cloak, a long knife flashing in her right fist and a pistol firing deadly little bursts in her left.

Susan had never felt such a rush, they were so very skilled, all her companions. They flowed across this battlefield in smooth tandem, dropping scores of foes, until eventually the four of them stood at the far wall, near a door, breathing heavily, looking around at each other with a feral gleam in their eyes. The line of Marcus' shoulders was tense again, but his eyes didn't turn to them in fear, they were searching the corners for more enemies to kill.

Massani burst out in laughter, which made them all start and Susan watched the tension leech away from Marcus as a smile tugged at his mandibles. Zaeed ground out as he lit a smoke, "Ooooohh, they are in for it. They are in so much trouble."


	11. Chapter 11

The enemy had caught on to the fact that not all was right in their little world inside that ship and alarms had sounded as the strike team breached an antechamber after clearing many rooms full of mechs and troopers. Or so it appeared to Susan. It was clearly a religious work, like a cathedral. There were mosaics all along the floor that led to a door at the far end of the room. An important door if the four heavy mechs and one atlas guarding it were any indication.

Even now they dodged and spun to avoid the heavy artillery that was being pumped their way. Marcus put away his sniper rifle, the old gun had no stopping power when it came to these big machines. He opted for his Carnifex, one of the weapons supplied by Aria for his raid on the Temple. Massani shouted from his position, "Focus fire on the Atlas! Take it down!"

The words tore from his throat before he could stop them, "Wait!"

"You got a better idea, junior?" Growled their leader, obviously annoyed to be contradicted.

Susan saved him from his embarrassment by nodding, the idea lighting up her eyes like twin beacons, "Pop the canopy!"

"Oh, ha! I gotcha. Oi, turian, overload that son of a bitch. Kasumi, you got some stickies, yeah? Toss one." No sooner said than done. Massani pulled out his own sniper, "Someone had better be light on their feet to get to it when I kill the pilot."

Marcus opened his mouth but was beaten by Susan, who was already on the move, bobbing and weaving to avoid heavy fire. The sticky exploded, punching a hole in the glass, exposing the human at the Atlas' controls. She called back, "On it."

The bullet whizzed by her into the pilot's head just as she reached him, spraying her in gore, but she paid it no mind as she yanked him out of the seat and plopped down in his place. The controls came alive at her touch and she swung one of the massive arms into the two heavy mechs on her right, throwing them across the room. But they were far from out of the fight and she strode toward them as they lumbered to their feet, trusting the rest of her team to take out the other two mechs.

Savagely, she ripped out one of their arms with a little push from her biotics and started beating them with it, keeping them pinned under her barrage of blows so that they couldn't fire their guns up into her face. When the shattered limb fell apart in her 'hands', she grabbed another and another, taking them apart with the biotically augmented strength of the machine she was piloting.

Suddenly, heavy fire pounded into her back, sending her lurching forward sickeningly and she half turned to catch the next volley in the side. The Atlas fell and she took a vicious blow to the side of her head as she bounced around the cab. Alerts beeped and whistled at her from every console and she worked to get the fire suppression system online in a panic. Behind her, she heard a tremendous shout, loud and furious and the fire ceased drilling her into the ground and she shook herself free of the daze and pressed the hatch release, tumbling out of the machine in a clumsy sprawl.

She lifted her head to see just one mech still up, with the dark shape of Marcus swarming over its back, his hands reaching into its guts to fire deep within it with loud concussive blasts. Massani and Kasumi danced around its legs, keeping it off balance as it tried to target them with its guns while simultaneously trying to dislodge its unwelcome passenger. It fell under their onslaught and Susan rose unsteadily to her feet, touching the knot on her temple, wincing when her hand came away covered in blood, some of it hers. She punched her medigel dispenser followed by a stim chaser and stood to meet them as they walked toward her, feeling the buzz fill her with welcome relief.

"You are a tough one, aren't you? And a bit crazy to boot." Massani turned to Kasumi and grunted, "I think there may be hope for the younger generation."

"Are you alright?" Susan smiled at Marcus' anxious tone, placating him with a wave. A flash of something flickered in his eyes and he turned away awkwardly. She frowned in confusion, but shrugged. It was hard to feel much of anything when the stims were coursing new and hot through her veins. She put her concern on the backburner for now.

How could he tell her of the panic that filled him when he'd seen her go down under the hail of bullets? She was competent and strong, she didn't need a nursemaid. Any words he was tempted to speak to her of taking unnecessary risks was bound to ring of hypocrisy and condescension and he thrust them aside and went to examine the door with Kasumi, who was working diligently with her omnitool to crack its code. He cleared his throat and said to the thief, "Any idea what's beyond that door? My visor isn't picking up anything."

"It's shielded...heavily. Strange, it's like it's shielded against the rest of the ship, not so much keeping things out, but keeping something in." She put her hand on the door and hummed, "It's vibrating and I can almost hear..."

"Hear what?" He said quietly, browplates furrowed. He listened and heard nothing. Susan and Massani joined them and he saw their eyes cloud with something as they listened. All three of them, it was alarming the way each of their faces went slightly slack. Susan's head was tilted and she leaned against the door, putting her cheek to it, an idiot's smile pulling at her lips. Marcus reached out and shook her and she snapped her head around, knocked out of her reverie.

"Music...?" She said, in awe. Then her gaze darkened and she grimaced, "But it's wrong...Something's not right in it. It's...discordant."

"Eh, what?" Massani said, dazed, probably unaware of how his finger tapped against his gun.

Kasumi hummed with whatever she was hearing and then shook her head, painted lips frowning, "Yeah, it's...twisted."

Marcus shook his own head in puzzlement, venturing, "It's affecting us even out here. What's it going to do to us in there?"

"Is it like indoctrination? Like what the Reapers did?" Susan asked, worried that this was the case. That they were going to find a Reaper when they opened the door.

"My guts say...no. There's no words, the reports said the ones affected heard words. This is something else. I hope this is something else..." Massani gripped his weapon tighter and the ground out, "My guts also say that we kill everything we find in there."

The door opened, as if in challenge to his words and light poured out at them, making them squint and curse. Then, the sound of whatever it was rushed out past the shielding door, Susan dropped to her knees, numb under its assault. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Massani and Kasumi crumple too, hands clapping over their ears though the sound was more within than without. Only Marcus remained standing, though he stepped back as though buffeted by a strong wind, arms up defensively. And she wondered at his strength to stand against it.

He looked down at her and spoke, though she couldn't hear it over the roar in her mind, what should be a lilting lullaby perverted into a coaxing, manipulative march. It said, not in words but in feelings, _Obey. Obey. Lift the banner and throw yourselves on their spears. Show them the face of God._

And something in her answered, uncoiling itself from around her very center and she recoiled in terror, this sleeping thing in her, it was too big, too primal and it threatened to crush her underneath its mighty bulk. It shouted with a thousand mouths, **_NO!_**

The resounding negative burst out around her in bright greenish waves, lighting all the nodes within her, buffeting back the encroaching shapes of figures silhouetted against the light and she heard gunshots then, three in close repetition and sudden darkness, not total, but it seemed so in the wake of that insane brightness. And she saw nude people, arms reaching in blind supplication, mouths chanting along to that horrible song that filled this room and she reached for the only thing she thought would drive the madness, the urge to listen and give in, away and her voice rang out, right where the song was wrong, true where it was false and Kasumi and Massani stood then, bolstered if shaken. They laid about, scything down the naked followers of a mad god with abandon.

Marcus grabbed ahold of her arm and steered her, for it took all of her concentration to counter the waves of seductive coercion that rolled over them all. His assault rifle's muzzle blazed in the gloom and she heard him shout at her, just on the edge of her awareness, "Keep going! We're almost there!"

The insinuating lure of the song died to a murmur as the chanters fell, their blood a sticky pool that covered the entirety of their path to the center of this room in an inch of variegated color. Salarian, asari, drell, human and turian blood...everywhere. She just kept her knees from buckling at the stink of it and she gagged, hand covering her mouth.

Marcus looked around for more targets but his visor was showing him not a single red dot and he tried to loosen his deathgrip on his rifle. He had no idea what just happened. He could still feel it, faintly, way back in his brain, a subtle influence trying to speak to him, but easily quelled. It didn't seem to affect him as strongly as the others, who weaved in exhaustion where they stood, Susan looked likely to be sick, her face as pale as he'd ever seen it. She seemed the most affected and he let out a barely audible sound of worry. His shots had taken out the engine of light and somewhere near, he heard explosions going off, lots of explosions and wondered if he'd done something...unwise. It was a gut feeling that turned him to the others, "We need to leave soon."

"Not until we find whoever's here." Massani growled, shaking his head. Susan agreed, straightening up with stolid determination.

"Look at them." Kasumi said, prodding a body with her toe. He looked down at one of the corpses and noted how ashen it was, like all the color had been leeched from it. Their open, staring eyes were the color of opal, the irises barely discernable from sclera, even the black of the drell and turians' sclera was absent and he shuddered in horror.

"Overexposure to eezo. It saps pigmentation." Susan said, her voice thick with revulsion. "But besides killing them in a slow and painful way, I don't know what the purpose could possibly be."

"They were almost like husks. But husks don't talk...or sing, or whatever it was they were doing." Kasumi said, a twitch of her shoulders like she was throwing off a particularly bad memory.

"Then let's find us some answers instead of waiting around for this big bastard to blow-" They all turned at a scraping sound, that echoed hollowly and a single slim figure trudged into view from around the engine, shoulders slumped, her blue skin standing out against her black and scarlet armor.

"Why has it stopped? Where is the music? I can't hear her..." An asari, her face mostly in shadow, except for the pale orbs of her eyes, which glowed eerily at them. The scraping was a long bladed weapon in her hand, loosely dragging behind her, its tip sparking on the metal decking as she moved. And she looked around at the bodies, her voice a low murmur that built to a roar, "Heretics...Heretics in the Reliquary!"

"Don't come any closer!" Massani barked, his weapon trained on her. They all stumbled as the floor bucked under their feet, throwing them to the ground. The merc rolled to his feet, nimble as a man half his age and grunted, "Aw, fuck it! Shoot the bitch!"

She _flickered_ as the bullets streamed toward her, the few that did strike slowed her not the least as she plowed toward them with a bloodcurdling scream of fury. Marcus dodged the first heavy swing with a dive to the side, rolling onto his back to catch the next on the stock of his sniper rifle, which he didn't remember drawing. He stared up at the mad rictus on the woman's face and felt his inner survivor rising to challenge it with narrowed eyes and a snarl of anger of his own and kicked out savagely with his boot, catching her in the chest. She flew away with a curse and disappeared before she landed. He rolled to his feet to the sound of the others fighting and yelling.

Massani and Kasumi fought back to back as the woman flickered between fighting them. Susan had been backed into a corner by the blue blur that was her opponent, her orange omniblade a fiery beacon in the dark, barely deflecting a blow aimed at her head. Her riposte hit naught but air and she lurched forward with the momentum, off balance, catching another strike to her side, her shields repelling the edge but not the force,making her buck in pain, and Marcus whipped himself into a charge to where she was desperately on the defensive, a part of his mind counting flickers, looking for a pattern. It couldn't be random, nothing was random.

They were all hard pressed and she heard many a cry of pain as hits were scored on her teammates. Sweat rolled into her eye as she fought for her life. Guns had suddenly become useless, she wished she had taken more hand to hand and the orange light of her only useful weapon lit up her opponent's face and she looked up at just the right time to freeze as the shock of recognition sapped her strength, blurting, "Kala?"

A moment's hesitation flashed in the other's face, her blue lips shaping a barely heard word, "Susan..."

Then the asari froze, her confused expression segueing into one of agony and Susan looked down in horror at the knife that sprung from her once companion's abdomen, its hilt grasped in Marcus' three fingered hand. The woman flickered away, taking his knife with her, wrenching it out of his grip and he dropped back into a crouch in front of Susan, eyeing the area around them warily. Massani and Kasumi were doing much the same and Susan heard the hiss of medigel being distributed through their suits.

Laughter filtered down to them, a light lilt that turned into words, "Oh, Susan, how I have missed you. When Aralakh Company took you in, I tried to be happy for you, even though you lied when you promised we'd be together."

"Kala, it wasn't like that, we both stepped forward-"

"I was so jealous, you know where they wanted to put me? Some outpost in the middle of nowhere. Out of the action. They didn't even want me in flight school." Another mad titter echoed around the room that was now shaking with each distant explosion. They didn't have a lot of time and Marcus clenched his fists, feeling his over long talons bite into his palms. "But I showed them, yes, I did. The faithful saw that I was worthy, they gave me a place. A place that would help me spread the word of God."

"Vakarian!" Massani barked, and Marcus turned to catch a knife that the merc tossed his way, flipping it around in his hand, at the ready.

Their adversary intoned, "Vakarian. I see. You should be with us, all of you. How can you stand with the godless knowing what you know? Having seen what you've seen? We can help you do...wonders."

Marcus felt the others quake with indignation. Wonders, if wonders were like what he'd seen so far of these 'believers', then they were sorely mistaken if they thought any of these people present wanted a part in it. He looked up into the rafters where he was sure he could see a shadow that shouldn't be there and said, "No one here will help you with this...madness."

Kala stood and they could see her plainly now, her menacing tone belying the almost beatific smile on her lips, "You are blind. Just like your sister. So be it, I will kill you both and take the apostles myself."

And then she was upon them, a furious blur that kept all four occupied with vicious slashes and blows, nearly untouchable from retaliation. Marcus waited, and he watched, looking for another opportunity and as he was countering a flurry of slashes that were aimed for his throat, Susan's slim blue hand shot out from around him and tore the knife that was imbedded in Kala's flesh free, spilling her entrails all over his boots.

The asari collapsed, buckling to her knees and Susan followed, pulling her limp body close, guilt tearing at her heart, this used to be her friend, her very first friend, "Kala..."

The fallen woman looked up as tears rained down on her face, her face ashen as the dead bodies around them, looked up past the faces that hovered over her, her gaze vague because she was blind, Susan was horrified to see, "Where is the light? They said there would be light."

"Kala, where is my mother? Tell me!" Susan gripped the woman closer, desperate for an answer, "Is she here?"

"Susan." This was sadly said and a smile bowed the dying woman's lips, not without mercy in its soft curves, "No..."

A choked cry wrenched out of Susan's throat and the others glanced around, uncomfortable with the way the ship was shuddering around them. Marcus rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down at the two asari, feeling like an intruder as he said, "Then who is?"

The dying asari was silent, her face turning to him for a moment, "I can't hear her any more. She's dying with the ship."

"Where, Kala?" Susan asked quietly, putting force behind her words, resisting the urge to shake the asari.

"The inner sanctum, behind the great machine." The words were barely a whisper now, the asari's life ebbing away along with her blood that was pooling beneath her. Suddenly, two hands closed on the front of her armor and pulled her down so her face was a scant inch from Kala's, and the blind woman pressed her cheek to Susan's, whispering in her ear, "I heard you sing. It was...the same, but...pure. What happened? It went wrong, didn't it?"

Susan was at a loss for words and so, nodded.

"Hurry. She fades." Those hands pushed her away weakly and she drew back to look at her once friend with pity. The asari grabbed her hand as she pulled away, "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Susan leaned down and gently pressed her lips to her cold forehead, heard her gasp and go still under her and felt a course of fresh tears flow down her cheeks. She stood in one smooth motion, wiping her cheeks with her blood covered hand and spun on her heel, the others dropping into her wake as she headed toward this inner sanctum.


	12. Chapter 12

It was an eerie feeling to walk a hallway that was identical to the one that she'd walked before on a distant moon, though this time she was unfettered, and there was no betrayal on the horizon. Susan could tell that Marcus was feeling and thinking the same, his mandibles were clenched so tight to his face that she wondered if they ached from the stress. At least the layout was familiar, it would hold no surprising twists or turns.

They hurried to the end and Marcus closed his eyes at the twin sounds of outrage that erupted from Massani's and Kasumi's throats as they saw one they loved suspended by cables and wires, much like doomed Miranda in the past. Dark purple hair cascaded over delicate violet shoulders, light markings tracing down limbs all the way to her hands and feet. The woman, even covered as she was in a skintight harness, was almost indecently exposed, knowing as he did that she should be in an envirosuit like all her race preferred.

Kasumi leapt nimbly upon the dais, calling out in an almost panicked voice, "Tali?"

There was no response from the quarian, who would seem comatose if not for the whispers that drifted out of her throat. Marcus listened close, it just seemed like a nonsensical flow of numbers with little pauses here and there. Or maybe it wasn't so nonsensical, a thought tickled the edge of his mind but refused to show itself completely. He shook his head and pulled up his omnitool, recording a segment of the woman's words for later analysis.

"How do we get her down?" Kasumi said, with an urgent tone as she fingered the harness and straps, wincing as she saw just how many wires and tubes ran in and out of Tali's flesh.

"I'm not sure. I don't know if Miranda died because I cut so many of the wires she was hooked up to." Susan said, biting her lip in uncertainty. This seemed a lot more complex than what had been done to Miranda, too.

"But Jacob survived, when you pulled him outta one of these." Massani growled, also looking nonplussed.

Hesitantly, Susan reached for the quarian, then drew her hands back, "I think Jacob was a prototype. There's just so much more to this than there was to that."

Marcus nodded agreement and turned his head, the explosions were getting too close for comfort, "Whatever we do, let's do it quickly and get out of here."

"Agreed." Susan lifted her chin with determination and reached for the tubing, unsnapping it all with practiced ease now. The others leaned in to assist and soon they had removed all the tubing and some of the wires. But most worrisome were the wires that led into the base of Tali's cranium and she tensed as she reached up with her standard issue snips.

Radio chatter startled them all and they heard voices in the static, "_fatal reaction__...I repeat...do not rem-...wi-... extracti- ...risk fatal..."_

Massani grumbled, "What the hell?"

"I thought we didn't have any long range comms?" Kasumi said.

"We don't." Massani replied, "Someone's on shortwave."

"To reach us they would have to be on the ship." Marcus said, shifting uncomfortably in place, rifle pointing at the door behind them.

"Stand and deliver!" Massani growled through the comms, "Friend or foe? What's the damned password?"

"_Just shu- the h- up, Massani! We're on ou-..-ay to your pos-" _That voice they all knew and they all let out relieved sighs.

"Jack, you brazen bitch, come to pick us up?" Massani laughed.

"_Yeah, yeah, that's me, ridin' in on a white horse. You'd make a terrible damsel in distress, Zaeed." _The signal grew clearer as their comrades got closer. "_Shit, you didn't leave us any to shoot?"_

_"_Hey, we'll cut Tali down and meet you halfway." The old merc winced away as a burst of negatives filled the air, a loud clamor of many voices indistinguishable from each other, and Massani growled, "Okay, that's a no, I take it. Only see, our Marcus shot the ship in its vitals and we're pretty sure we're on a countdown to a massive explosion."

"_Hold tight. We brought some friends."_

The sound of running feet reverberated in the halls and a small troupe appeared in the hallway. Marcus let the muzzle of his rifle drop as he recognized most of them. Friendlies, indeed. The other rescue squad, plus two primes and a geth of female proportion. ...And Caesar, he saw with shock. The animal slunk in after, staying unobtrusively at the back.

Jack grinned as she skidded to a stop in front of them, "Here's the cavalry. Clear the dais!"

Marcus' attention was dragged from the odd circumstance of Caesar's presence as Susan and Kasumi leapt down and away, standing off to one side as the female geth took their place next to Tali. It-She spoke to the other geth in their machine language and they lifted the quarian slightly, then the geth who lead pulled out a device of some sort, a collar that had a socket at the base, clearly meant for an orb. One whirled gently in a metal fist as it was placed with almost reverent care. There was chatter as the machines worked, their hands moving inhumanly fast.

"What are they doing?" Susan said as an aside to Vega, who bit his nails nervously as they watched.

The human looked at her askance, fingering his rifle where he had it casually draped across his chest, "They said their minds were 'immersed' and had to be extracted before the connection is terminated."

The whispering ceased and they saw Tali's head pick up, her hair falling around her stricken face in lank strands. Her eyes slowly opened and latched onto the geth who stood before her, and said shakily, "Kshanti?"

The geth smiled tenderly and pulled the now free woman to her chest, cradling her like a child, "I am here."

"We gotta go." Marcus said, breaking the silence that followed, his attention once again on Caesar, whose eyes darted around almost guiltily. Something wasn't adding up, but he had no time to think about it now, the growing suspicion in him that the animal was more than he seemed.

In silent agreement, the team moved out at a run.

"Follow me." Grunt said, taking lead. They saw the deck splitting as the ship slowly disintegrated under strain caused by the explosions. Bulkheads collapsed around them and they had to dodge several flying bits of metal as they made their way back to the hangar. A geth ship waited, sleek and powerful and they ran right up the ramp and into its safe confines. The krogan pounded on the cockpit door, shouting, "Let's go! Let's go!"

The ship lifted up and away, zipping out the hangar door just as the whole thing went up in flames, crumbling into so much debris. The teams, breathing heavily, eyed each other with grim smiles. Marcus saw Joker sitting near the back, a female shape nestled in his lap. The machine man was holding her close, rocking her and she kept touching his face with metal hands, as if to make sure he was still there.

Similarly, Susan watched the geth named Kshanti hold Tali close to her side. The quarian trembled as she huddled as close as she could to the machine and Tali looked around fearfully as she said in a weak and small voice, "This is real, isn't it? Please tell me it's real."

The terror in those words pulled at Susan's heart and she reached out to touch the woman's knee. They, the rest, all followed her example, touching her shoulder, her hair and Susan watched her grow calmer as it really set in that yes, this was real, she was free and the quarian sighed, closing her eyes as she whispered in longing, "I want my suit."

It started as a chuckle, Jack snorting behind her hand and it set off Massani and soon the whole passenger compartment was ringing with laughter. Slightly hysterical, but cleansing laughter nonetheless. Then it finally felt like a victory, to all who were there. They'd reclaimed part of what was lost, it was a good feeling and Marcus felt the edges of it and smiled, glad that he'd been able to help. His smile dropped away as he glanced over at Susan, whose brows drew together with worry and pain. He leaned over and touched her hand, "You'll find her. I know you will."

She smiled a tight little smile and gnawed on the corner of her lip, doubt plaguing her.

Grunt spoke to Joker, who looked up at his name, "Joker, how are the fleets doing?"

The machine's eyes glazed over slightly and he replied, "The enemy is routed. When the carriers went offline, their ships lost their jump capabilities. The geth are mopping up now. Rannoch is free."

A cheer went up then, among Shepard's old companions and Massani said over the hubbub, "Please tell me we captured the other carrier."

"Destroyed." Vega said, somberly, "We boarded. That was the scariest fucking thing ever, by the way, Marcus. I think I'll do all my flying through space inside a ship from now on."

Cheers and jeers made Marcus duck his head in chagrin and the human continued, "Everything was going fine until we got to the room full of zombies, then it was like we were paralyzed. I couldn't think, couldn't move. There was this...sound and we just...froze..."

"All of us." Grunt said, his eyes taking on a faraway look. Massani, Kasumi and Susan nodded in understanding. There was a moment of silence as they were all lost in their thoughts and Marcus cleared his throat and the krogan shook his head as though to clear it and said, "Then I heard...something else, something bigger somehow and the other sound got quieter. When we came around enough to see what was going on, your furry white friend had killed all the zombies. How he got there, I don't know."

All eyes went to the hairy animal, who laid on his side behind the prime's legs and Marcus thought long and hard about how exactly the beast could have gotten over there, coming up with only fantastical speculation. He shook his head, impossible. Then he watched as Caesar's eyes opened just a hair, those golden eyes flaring with light and everyone seemed to lose interest in him, Vega turned back with a resigned, "Anyway, we'd have started towing the ship in if that bitch hadn't shown up and set off a self destruct."

"Yeah, we'd just found EDI and started a data mine on that ship's systems when this female turian popped up. She tried the old 'I'm not with them, take me with you' routine when the geth showed up and Kshanti pointed at her and the primes started firing. Guess they knew something we didn't." Jack said with a quirked brow.

"I didn't trust her. Not once." Grunt said, rumbling deep in his chest.

"The turian ran for it, but not before scattering us with a shockwave and a few lifts. I repelled most of her attacks." Jack said with a touch of pride. "But the coward took off in a shuttle before we could kill her."

"Yeah, your...pet got in the way of my shot." Vega said almost mournfully. "Chased her right to the hatch. It was almost funny, if we weren't distracted trying to free EDI and get out before the big boom."

Marcus forced himself to breathe and unclench his hands from where they gripped his knees painfully. _No, it couldn't_ _be..._ His voice came out in a hesitant hush, "What did she look like?"

Something in his tone must have given away what he was feeling and Vega shot him a curious look, "I dunno. Dark, with white stripes, like...arrows on her face?"

His blood ran cold and he shook there as the conversation continued around him. He'd been so close, if not for an accident of squad placement, he'd have had his revenge. He bit his tongue as waves of agony rolled through him, externalized only as a shiver. It had to be her, there weren't that many turian biotics, not with her coloring, and her little ruse was exactly the sort of thing he'd expect from that traitorous bitch.

What were the odds, thought Susan as she watched the turian shake in his armor. No one else seemed to notice how withdrawn he suddenly was, how his awareness had pulled all the way back, back behind the bulwark of his flesh. How terrible that he'd come so close to finding her, for surely that was what he'd been doing at Omega in the first place, find the woman who'd killed his brother.

Susan truly hated her then, for what she'd done to Marcus, was still doing to him. The geth ship landed in a huge hangar, no doubt one of the cruisers that had reclaimed Rannoch and the teams disembarked. She stayed with Marcus, who was still clenching and unclenching his hands on themselves.

His plates_ itched. _He wanted to scratch them until flesh came off in ribbons. If only he dared to steal a ship from these people, he'd go after her. But no, he couldn't do that to these people and he had no idea where to look, no doubt she had already escaped through the relay. How to find her now, he had no plan, nothing to fall back on, what to do? What could he do? The thoughts spiraled, laced through with self loathing, he wanted to scream. A gentle touch on his arm had his awareness snapping outward, a snarl almost escaping his lips before he realized that it was Susan, Susan who was standing in front of him with concern in every line of her face.

She forced herself not to shrink back as his blue eyes latched onto hers with blazing mad hate, only to extinguish itself with shame and she tugged on his hand, jerking her head to the right slightly to indicate that he should follow. Numbly, he stood and let her drag him in her wake to an elevator. They stood in silence as it ascended, he was once again lost in his thoughts and she, conflicted about what to do about it.

This elevator was as slow as the Normandy's and judging from its control panel, they had a long long way to go. She kept stealing glances out of the corner of her eye at her companion, who dully stared forward. Her mouth opened and closed several times, trying to find something, anything to say and finally, with a wince for her bluntness, she said, "Do you think it was Aleia?"

Slowly, he turned toward her and she took a step back as he seemed to loom, his gaze turning predatory as he hissed, "Yes, yes I do. Who else could it have been?"

She took another step back as he advanced, "Marcus..."

"You know, it's funny, no, it's fucking hilarious. The universe playing its little joke on all the insignificant people who live here. She was right there, in that other ship, I was so close, I could have ended it..." He knew he was scaring her, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. All his rage and stress needed an outlet and unfortunately, she was the only one here. And she'd said _that name, _inflaming the demon in him_._

It was wrong, but he felt a smirk tug at his mandible as she was backed up right to the wall, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, her hand coming up to keep some distance between them. He almost laughed at her pitiful attempt at pushing him away and he framed her smaller body with his arms braced on the wall. Things were starting to get confused, his sight was fogging with a blood haze and he pounded the wall with a fist, a small measure of relief filling him as the pain of his abused flesh announced itself to his fevered brain.

She started away from his violent convulsion, not sure is she should try to take him down. Marcus seemed out of it as he repeatedly hit the wall, its hollow reverberation echoing around the small room. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to figure out what she should do. He seemed to forget she was there as he flailed in frustration. Soon enough, he seemed to tire and he leaned his head against the wall, pinning her there between it and him.

She was awash in his scent, spicy mixing with blood and sweat and her eyes rolled back as it awakened memories and feelings, guilt mixing with suddenly sharp desire. What could she do for him? What would help ease his pain?

Helpless. Hopeless. His mind swam with it and he felt bottomless remorse for everything he'd done. Was still doing. He was vaguely aware of Susan, who was breathing heavily against his neck, surely frightened for her life, surely thinking he was a mad beast about to attack her. So out of it was he that he didn't hear the first seals on his armor go, but he did start as the slightly cooler air of the elevator hit his lower regions, and outright groaned as slim hands encircled his waist and _squeezed. _A primal reaction to so wanton a caress. He breathed in sharply as the sensation was repeated, letting the pant out in a gravelly, "Susan? What-?"

One hand came up and covered his mouth, effectively silencing the baffled turian and the other found the seam of his carapace through his underarmor and rolled along it deftly and his cock shot out without his meaning it to, only to find itself getting kneaded and pulled in an shamefully erotic way that had spikes of hot and cold flashes roll up and down his whole body. He tried to find her eyes to question her, but her head was lowered as she concentrated on what her hands were doing. She opened his underarmor along its hidden fastenings and he gasped in earnest as his cock was pulled out into the open air by her soft, so soft hands.

Unable to move, he braced himself on his forearms as she shifted herself lower and he cried out as the tip of his member was plunged into the moist cavern of her mouth. The feeling was almost indescribably intense and his knees felt weak and rubbery, nearly buckling as she dipped her head lower and applied those cunning flexible lips and tongue to suction. His breath was coming in soft whines now, a series of sighing 'ah's that escalated into one long shout as his first climax in over a year swept upon him without warning, wiping all rational thought from his mind, leaving it a cloud of confusion as he leaned even further against the wall, almost limp.

The shuffle of cloth was his only warning as a hot body, half clothed in light armor pushed itself between him and the wall that was keeping him from falling over and he looked down to see what she was doing, his gaze meeting the back of her head, the tentacles writhing slightly before his eyes. She lifted herself on tiptoe and sank onto his still swollen glans, he winced at the pleasure/pain and grabbed her hips reflexively, too far gone to realize how his talons sunk into her soft flesh. They groaned in unison as he sunk past the point of discomfort. She panted as she spread her legs just a bit further to accommodate his girth and he heaved a low rumbling groan as he started to move within her, no more able to control himself than fly.

He set a brutal pace, his hips slamming into hers with ringing slaps, all his pent up fear and anger, all of his passions letting themselves out in the convulsive thrusting of his pelvis, almost picking her up by her hips to meet him. His face, he tucked against the wall, some part of him wanting to hide from his ruthless actions like a guilty child and he mewled hoarsely deep in his throat as he came once more, vision whiting out from the intensity of the feeling. He sagged, gasping in what suddenly felt like oxygen starved air as his essences seeped out of her and onto the decking at their feet.

He almost cried out again as she pulled herself off of him, the sensitive end of his penis a ball of nerves that still seeped fluids. Hands shaking, he tucked himself away, redoing the fastenings that kept his underarmor closed. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her redress, slowly popping the clasps on her lower armor shut. She kept her face carefully away from him and it fostered a sense of deep unease in him. He wanted to see her face, find out what this was all about, he was confused, so confused and he put his own armor to rights feeling a tremor of bafflement disordering his thoughts.

The door opened and she made to step out onto what looked like a crew deck and halted at the sound of his hesitant voice, "Susan? I didn't...hurt you, did I?"

She didn't turn and her voice was even as she replied, "No, Marcus_, you_ didn't hurt _me."_

He puzzled over the slight emphasis she put on the words as the doors closed, not realizing until it was too late that he should have stepped out with her. Now the elevator was being summoned to some other part of the ship and all his belated pushing of buttons stalled it not at all. It would take a bit of time to get back to where she'd been let off, but maybe that was a good thing. It would give him time to figure some of this out.

One thing he did know was that some sense of quiet had returned to his tumultuous spirit, a tiny island of peace in a storm and his psyche rested on it with a grateful and deeply shaken sigh.


	13. Chapter 13

He didn't follow her, thank the Goddess. She kept her head tilted to the deck so she wouldn't draw any unwanted attention from the crew that scuttled around her. Not that they would. They were fully in the throes of post-successful op celebration, she heard them talk and laugh around her as she moved like a ghost in their midst. She felt rather like a phantom, thinking how simple life had been when she'd been a grunt like these people, a simple cog in the machine, neither knowing or wanting to know about the war on the horizon.

But she couldn't join in their jubilation, not now, maybe not ever, she was feeling the desperate desire to be alone. So that the tight rein she had on her emotions could be loosened, so she could set aside the blank mask she'd made of her face. She passed a door marked for storage and with a surreptitious look around, slipped into it stealthily. Other than a few crates, it was devoid of life. Perfect.

Susan slid down a wall and let the tears come. They were accompanied by racking sobs, she found to her dismay and she wiped at them helplessly, all the while thinking as her heart pounded spasmodically in her chest, _Why did I-Oh, Goddess, what have I done?_

Marcus...just the thought made her cringe in shame. The man was vulnerable, she knew. Possibly a little mad, this she also knew. And the first thing she thought of was to molest him? In an elevator? What damage did she leave in the wake of that ill considered act?

She bit her palm, trying to stifle her tears with physical pain, but what hope did that have when the bruises and cuts of their violent coupling throbbed at her accusingly. She still felt his seed drying on her thigh. Just the reminder warmed her face to a flaming blush.

Maybe she only thought to comfort, give him release so he could try to move past the plate cracking tension she'd seen in his face, in every line of his body for the last month. It would have been easier to think of it like that, to believe that she hadn't just wanted him, if it hadn't been so..._good_.

He'd been like a brand, a torch, burning her as he took her. Raw passion and fire, so far removed from the cool aloof exterior he showed most of the time. The feel of his strong hands on her hips, the searing prick of his talons, his volcanic breath on the back of her neck, how he filled her so well, so perfectly, every thrust igniting an answering fire in her belly. She quivered to recall how easily she'd come undone time and again and ran her hands over her damp cheeks to try to quiet the rushing blood there. They flamed under her palms, as if they knew more than she how embarrassed she should be. The tears left cool trails on the heated skin.

Then she remembered catching a glimpse of his face as he found his release and the shock that flooded her at how bare his spirit had been at that moment, how she'd seen...innocence...wounded innocence, and fear that he was losing himself to his inner demons and the desires of others. She cried out in that store room, her face in her hands. What had she done? Take advantage of him at his weakest, like all the rest.

What was wrong with her? She'd fucked the man's brother. Now him. Even by asari standards, that was pretty low. Just another blue whore. She didn't know if what she'd done was entirely wrong, but it sure as hell didn't feel right. Wouldn't her mother be proud of her now?

And that thought brought on a fresh wave of tears. Try as she might've to not do so, she had really hoped Liara was on one of those ships. Had hoped against hope to have found her. And to have seen Kala like that, to be the hand that ripped her guts out onto the floor, she stuffed her fist in her mouth to stifle her scream and tasted blood, it might even have been Kala's, she was horrified to think.

Some time passed as her sobs became quiet, shuddering breaths and she leaned her head back on the cold bulkhead, eyes squeezed tightly shut. She wiped her face with her palms as her omnitool beeped loudly, sniffing to clear her head and coughed to do the same to her throat before flicking the comms open, "Yeah?"

She winced at how hoarse her voice was, but the woman at the other end didn't seem to notice, "T'soni, come to the command deck for debriefing at 1700 hours."

"I'll be there." She closed the comms before her voice could give away how thin her control was and checked the chronometer. An hour, she could pull herself together in an hour. Shower, send her armor through the sonic cleaner, maybe find one of those bottles of liquor that the ensigns out there were passing around. Then maybe, just maybe, she'd have the nerve to face them, face_ him._

She stood and screwed her nerve up, hoping that the gore that still coated her body would disguise her disheveled countenance. She put on a blank expression and left the store room, flagging down a petty officer to ask him where the showers were. She was pointed in the right direction and headed off with a determined stride, stripping down efficiently in the bathroom and turning the taps on. A glimpse of herself in the mirror nearly made her break down again. Deep puncture wounds at her hips, scratches and bruising all along her backside and inner thighs. She turned away with effort.

She took advantage of the copious amounts of hot water a ship this size had and scrubbed and scrubbed until well after all the battle grime was gone, down the drain with whatever was left of her dignity.

* * *

The elevator took its sweet time getting back to the crew deck where he'd last seen Susan and the interim had still given him no insight into what had happened between them. He just didn't know what to make of it. He needed to find her, talk to her, then he'd have a handle on the situation.

The door opened and he stepped out cautiously, dodging around many a crewman who skittered to and fro as he craned his neck around, trying to spot a familiar turquoise complexion. He frowned as he found not a single sign of her, lots of asari mingling among the other races that ran the ship, but not a single Susan.

Then, his gaze was drawn to the flash of a white plume of fur and another thought occurred to him, nagged at him really. Something that had to be investigated and he frowned an even deeper frown as he stepped forward to follow the thing he once considered an animal.

The things, the anomalies were piling up regarding Caesar and he aimed to find out once and for all what exactly was going on. Turning the corner, he found himself in a bunkroom, unused and dusty. Caesar sat in the middle of it, regarding him with a golden stare, waiting.

Marcus eyed the creature as he made his way to a chair. He sat gingerly and leaned back, thinking and really looking, perhaps for the first time. And Caesar just stared back, with far too much intelligence in his eyes for him to be a simple beast. Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension starting to flow back into his body and said, not breaking eye contact, "Show me."

Teeth bared in a humor filled grin as Caesar slowly lifted himself onto two feet, standing a good two and a half meters tall, his legs short and bandy under a long torso with equally long arms at his side. The creature that had been his companion for a year and a half revealed to be another sentient alien and he felt a flash of anger at the deception, "Why?"

Caesar's breath huffed out in a chuff and words, slow but understandable came out of that toothy maw, a deep, resonant, powerful voice, "...Marcus. This...was safer. The overworld is...too noisy."

Overworld? Marcus' mind was reeling from the revelation, "You've been lying the whole time. About being an animal."

"I am..an animal." A grin again, almost playful and Marcus was certainly in no mood to play.

Marcus made a sound of disgust as he pointedly glared at Caesar, "Not just an animal."

"...No. I am an..animal, but I am also more. Like you." It was strange to see what he was used to thinking of as a quadruped walking about on two legs, natural as can be. He saw now how the forelegs ended in taloned hands, not short stubby fingered paws. Why had he not noticed that before? Caesar chuffed, "You were not looking."

Suspicion blossomed in his mind and he leveled a flat and hostile look at the creature, "You're a telepath. You've been doing something with my mind, making me not see."

Caesar held up a hand as if to forestall any more accusations, "I did not put anything...there that wasn't there...before. I merely reinforced your..idea that I was just a beast. I did not intend harm."

Marcus was furious at the idea that this being rummaged around in his head, poking around all his wounds, seeing memories he had no business seeing and he stood, taking a few threatening steps toward Caesar, "What gave you the right? What. The. Hell. Made you think you had the _right?_"

It was at this point that he felt an intrusion in his mind, a soft whisper of thought that begged audience and even though it didn't try to manipulate, he snarled and beat at his own temples, "Get the hell out of my head!"

"Marcus...please to understand, this one did not seek harm." Sincerity glowed in his eyes and despite himself, Marcus believed him and forced himself to relax despite how violated he felt at that moment.

"How often have you played with my mind? Was it like what you did on the shuttle?" Indignation laced his tone as he spat the invective, "I saw them. They 'forgot' about you. Like your sudden appearance and actions had no consequence."

"I do not..usually interfere to such a degree. I just made it so they did not wonder too much." Caesar lifted his palms up in an expression of remorse, placing them over his eyes in some ritualistic fashion, as was clear from his formal posture, "This one has lost worth."

"I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me this before? Why the hell did you come to me in the first place?" Marcus shook his head in confusion. That seemed to be a state his mind was growing comfortable with. Sheer and utter bafflement. He looked up as Caesar shrugged.

"You were alone." Caesar said unapologetically, spreading his hands once again in a gesture of acceptance of fact, his maw wrinkling slightly in some unknown expression. "You were hurt. I thought only to help."

"Then what do you want from me?" He said this bitterly, everyone wanted something from him, wanted to take and take when he had nothing to give.

"Nothing, _sa'diqi._ I seek only to be worthy."

Marcus snorted in disbelief, "Then why did you stay?"

Caesar was silent for a moment and his fingers came up to rest on his lip, Marcus was suddenly sure that the being wasn't sure himself. A smile found its way back onto that black muzzle, "Because...I was alone."

Marcus mulled this over as he stared at Caesar, looking for falseness, finding none. It was true that he would have died on Alchera without this creature and they'd been close companions, sharing a trust with each other that had never needed testing, until now, "What about trust? How can I trust you now that I know you can just reach into my brain and make me think things?"

"This one never made you less than what you are. I never will." Consternation now as Caesar seemed almost offended by the suggestion. But who decided just how much interference was acceptable? Marcus had serious doubts on that score.

Marcus shook his head, wanting to yell, _How can I know that?_ "How did you get onto that carrier? More trickery?"

Caesar stood silent, clearly contemplating, then sighed, shaking his head, "I will show you."

Caesar flickered, in a way alarmingly reminiscent of Kala and without seeming to move, suddenly appeared a meter to his left and Marcus couldn't help but start in surprise, pointing a finger at him sharply, his words coming out in a jumble, "You-...like them, Kala..."

The creature shook his head, "No, not like them. Similar, not the same."

"How-?" Marcus started, not sure how to finish.

Caesar shook his head again, "I could talk until the stars burned out and you would not understand. It is..._al'tanwiir."_

Marcus' omnitool beeped and he jumped, shooting a look at Caesar, who growled in amusement. He flipped open the comms, "Yeah?"

Jack's bold alto bounced around the cabin, "Hey, I need you and the rest in command at 1700 hours for debriefing."

"I'll be there." He said, checking his chronometer as he closed the omnitool, "Shit. Ten minutes. I was going to- I needed to-"

He drifted off, running his hand over his fringe and huffed a great sigh. He turned to Caesar, "What are we going to tell them about you?"

Caesar smiled, the boy probably wasn't aware of how his mind sang of concern...for him, this once trusted pet turned thinking being with possible hidden agendas. Marcus really was worthy, no matter how chaotic the stew of his conscience had become and now he could feel that connection the turian had with the small blue female was growing stronger. The one who had been weeping sweet saltwater tears not twenty feet from them. He'd heard her sorrowful song. The song of mortal existence. There were some things that didn't change in any age and his heart was gladdened for it. He laughed, a short almost coughing sound, "I think you will not see this one for a time."

"What do you mean?" Marcus said, alarmed. Caesar dropped back on all fours and stretched, brushing close to the turian affectionately. He just kept himself from recoiling. It seemed wrong now to treat him as an animal now that he knew he wasn't one.

"I will leave. But I will come back when I am needed." Caesar started to flicker there before his eyes, making good his escape.

Marcus called out, the words pulled from his throat, "Caes-I mean, what is your name? What are you?"

"Caesar, this one is now called. My people are the _Taa'ih_." The words lay upon the air even as the creature, the..._Taa'ih_, disappeared into the ether, a small clapping noise filled the cabin as air rushed to fill the void.

Marcus sat heavily, contemplating the space Caesar had previously inhabited. He ran over the whole conversation in his head, no, his whole aquaintance with the enigmatic creature, picking it apart for clues, for the truth he'd obviously blinded himself to. He saw many instances where he could have made the connection and cursed himself for his stupidity.

Glancing at the time, he cursed again and stumbled out to wash his face and hands at least. He flagged down an ensign who stared at his blue and black armor in stricken awe and waved his hand over the stunned human's face to get his attention, "Ensign, where can I wash up?"

"Uh-it's a...just down the corridor, portside." The man pointed and Marcus strode in that direction, trying not to hear the whispered conversations around him. When before he had slipped unnoticed past the crew, now they blatantly stared. His brows furrowed, maybe Caesar had done something even then, had tempted forgetfulness in the people around him so that he and the turian could have an uninterrupted conversation.

That thought made the turian seethe, how casually the creature had played with them. He didn't have the right. Marcus was tired of being manipulated, so damned tired.

The washroom was immense, clearly meant to service crew by the dozens and he wished he had time to shower properly. Nevertheless, he was grateful to wash away the gore on the exposed parts of his skin, he even passed a wet cloth over his armor, restoring much of it to its former gleam, but he was sure it would take the better part of a day to clean it thoroughly. He sighed and headed up to command, to see what they wanted of him now.


	14. Chapter 14

The next week became a flurry of activity as plans were made, discussed and either approved or discarded. The enemy was on the move again, but instead of swallowing whole systems, they seemed to have adopted a hit and run strategy, striking deep into Council space, almost like they were searching for something. Whether this was something new or they were looking for what they'd lost, was yet unclear. It was too much to hope that the loss of two of their command carriers would cripple them. After all, they still had four others out there somewhere.

Coordinating with Shadow Broker agents through Susan, the crew of the Normandy along with Anderson and the accompanying fleet hunted for their locations. It was a trying time, full of tense expectation and abundant disappointments as each 'lead' led nowhere. And there was no doubt in Susan's mind that the Shepards were even now scouring space to find their wayward apostles. She worried that so many were in one place, that the rest could be taken in one fell swoop should they have the misfortune of being spotted.

The others seemed to share her concerns when she'd brought them up, and the fleet and its commanders hovered protectively over these few that were safe, for now. Alternate plans were discussed, but none felt right, trying to protect them individually in separate locations carried far greater risk, all things considered and so with reluctance, it was agreed that the Normandy would continue its dance in the shadows, and stay far away from civilization. The fleet that took back Rannoch would be outfitted with stealth technology and stay with her. The geth had the defense of Rannoch firmly in hand, now that their ships could reach orbit without being shot down and set up a grid that extended as far as the edge of the system, with AI-enhanced targetting that could be brought to bear on any intruders, no matter how fast.

Tali and EDI, for their part, were both muddled about the time they'd spent hooked up to the 'Great Machine' as Kala had called it, the techies were calling it a Quantum Singularity Drive and theories were flying about as to how it worked, and why it needed a living component. And, most importantly, why_ these _particular living components. It was a mystery they desperately worked to resolve. Susan sent many a message to Feron requesting data from the agents in the field. Data that she shared with the people around her, they were brilliant, all of them, in their own unique ways. Perhaps they could glean some new insight.

He sat with the team leaders, leaning back in his chair unobtrusively. Jack and Vega and Massani were going back and forth on their narratives on what had happened on those carriers. Marcus listened carefully and shook his head as the role Caesar had played was downplayed to near nonexistence. They just..._glossed_ over the fact that the huge furry animal appeared out of nowhere and saved their asses from the entrancing voices of the Shepards' supplicants, or whatever they were really. He was starting to doubt anyone was who they seemed.

At that thought, his gaze found Susan, where she stood and stretched, seemingly engrossed in the discussion the other group was having about their next move. Her face showed little or no emotion, but her shadowed eyes when they drifted over to him, flickered with some deep current of feeling, he couldn't decide exactly what it was, but his visor read a hike in her pulse and he worried at what that might mean. Surely she knew that there couldn't be...something with them. As much as he would willingly give her, he couldn't give her that. It was already gone, his heart. It only beat now in the hopes that he killed its thief. And when that day came...

He touched his wrist reflexively, where he knew that under his armor, a metal and leather cuff still embraced his flesh. A reminder of what he'd gotten in exchange for his love and devotion.

Now they were talking about Aleia and how she blew the second carrier and he felt the rage uncoiling from its rest in his bowels, but he beat it back. Whatever else had happened in the last week, and their unresolved..issue, he was grateful to Susan for giving him a piece of his sanity back. Then he found himself the center of scrutiny and tried to remember what exactly had been said just then and his hands dropped almost guiltily onto his knees, "...Sorry?"

"I said, it seemed like Marcus knew her." Vega said with a touch of irritation, waving at him to speak.

Marcus edged forward on his seat, reluctantly, not really wanting to share his personal obsession with these people, but seeing no choice really. "Well, obviously, I wasn't there, personally, but from the description and the vid..."

"Go on." Grunt said, leaning forward slightly, pinning him with his light blue orbs. Marcus felt a touch of astonishment at how disturbed he was under the krogan's scrutiny and he forced himself not to squirm. It was a reminder of just who these people he was surrounded by were, how formidable they were.

Marcus queued up the recording the geth who'd stormed the other carrier had given them and started it, turning the monitor next to them so everyone could watch. He froze it on the dodging turian female, biting back the fury that filled him. Yes, he knew her, knew the way she moved as thoroughly as he knew his own and as he pointed at her with one long sharp talon, he forced himself to say calmly, "Her name is Aleia. She's a biotic and she was on my Vagabond team."

"I think I recall, vaguely." Grunt said amid the others' murmurings.

"Yeah, she used to answer the comms sometimes when I needed to reel you in." Massani said, lighting up a smoke. Marcus waved the noxious vapors away from his face.

"She was my XO. And she was the instigator of the mutiny on my ship." Marcus said, his voice under tight rein. He choked back the other things, the screaming in his mind. Screaming liar, betrayer..._murderer. _Just the facts, the cold facts, he let out a soundless breath before he continued, "She's devious, and strong. It's a good thing you didn't believe her when she tried to deceive you. And she is so very good at deception."

Jack opened her mouth to ask the question, the question he knew was on all their minds, but he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned away, deliberately shutting off any inquiry, clenching his mandibles warily. The tattooed biotic relented and ran a hand over her nearly bald head, looking away from him to the screen, "Well, whoever she is, she just made the top of my shit list. I'll see if Susan can dig up anything more on this Aleia. Speaking of which, it looks like we're taking a break."

Marcus stood and dropped in with the group as they headed out, but there seemed to be some traffic congestion at the door and he found himself almost pressed against Susan's back as she abruptly halted the entire entourage and he leaned in to listen with interest as she spoke, her eyes lighting up like twin emerald beacons.

_Fifteen minutes earlier:_

Susan scrubbed her eyes and yawned, many of the others around her in the war room mimicking her. Tali, once again in a suit that she insisted on wearing even though her geth gently admonished her that it was unnecessary, leaned forward and put her hand on Susan's forearm, "Maybe we should call it a day. We've been at it for 26 hours."

"As if I could stop thinking about it even if we took a break. Hell, I'll probably dream about it." Susan muttered, but stood and stretched, popping her back, letting out a small groan. She turned slightly and glanced at the other group, where Marcus was discussing strategies and tactics with the crew's de facto team leaders, his hands moving through the air with an easy glide. She froze as his electric blue stare rested on hers for just a moment before moving back to focus on something Vega had just said. She felt a wave of guilt rise in her, heating her face. They'd never talked about what happened in the elevator, there'd been no time and she, much to her chagrin, hadn't pushed the issue and surprisingly, neither had he.

His attitude toward her seemed a bit cooler, she wondered if he felt resentment, if he thought she had used him. It was odd though, if that were the case, she would have thought he'd act a lot more guarded, and a lot less grounded. Indeed, he seemed a lot more stable. For that welcome turn of events, she would gladly put up with his estrangement. If it meant he found more of himself, if he'd...ah, but what was she thinking? She had a mission, and she couldn't expect him to abandon his, though sometimes, when she thought about what it would do to him to finish what he'd started... She couldn't quite suppress the cold shiver that ran through her then and the others who had been talking about going to the mess to find some food shot her inquisitive looks. She shrugged, "Maybe I do need a break. Some chow, a couple hours of shut eye sounds pretty good right about now."

They stood around her, Tali, Kshanti, EDI, Joker, Kasumi, and Jacob, who hadn't so much been an active part of the discussion as much as he seemed to gain a measure of comfort being around them, these who were closest to him. His caretaker was, as ever, at his side in a matter of seconds. Jacob's eyes were glossed over in a drugged haze and he leaned heavily on the slighter doctor as they made their way to the exit. Susan watched him for a moment, her heart touched with sorrow and pity for the man. Then, a shock ran up her spine as a thought occurred to her and she whispered, "...Miranda."

"What's that, Susa-chan?" Kasumi asked, bumping her lightly with an elbow.

"Miranda. Jacob said she'd know."

Tali queried, "Isn't Miranda..dead?"

"Yes, but that's not what I mean. She was a scientist, a Cerberus scientist. I can't believe I didn't-of all the stupid-" With a frustrated growl, Susan shook her fists in the air.

Joker chuckled as EDI smiled at her antics, the mechanical man saying, "Just spit it out already. Don't leave us in suspense."

"...We need to start at the beginning. Track down the places Miranda had been prior to her death, maybe as far as a decade back, maybe since Shepard died, I don't know, but I think if we can follow her trail..."

"...you'll find out how and why." A deep multi-toned voice said behind her and she turned slightly to look up into Marcus' blue eyes, which looked down at her with an unreadable expression in them. She swallowed as she realized how close he was, crammed as they were at the top of the landing before the door. His breath ghosted along her neck, giving her a delightful shiver, which she sublimated with a shame filled mental shove.

She turned back to the rest, "Um, exactly. Before she...died, she said it was all her fault-"

Jack snorted, "That doesn't surprise me."

"Now's not the time to indulge in your Miranda bashing hobby." Massani ground out, puffing on his cigarette. He gave a little half bow in Susan's direction, "Go on."

"Think about it. If she was the head of some research project, which might or might not have been funded by the cultists. If she was the one who discovered how to make a QSD work, what scientist doesn't take notes?"

Grunt said, "Okay, but how do we find them?"

"Follow the money." Kasumi shrugged as everyone turned to her, "You can hide research bases, bunkers, caches of munitions, people, but you can't hide the money trail. All the money to fund such a venture had to come from somewhere and it wasn't so long ago that all the records would have vanished. The bigger the project, the larger the funneling of resources. And this must have been one hell of a large project."

"I know I liked you for a reason, Goto." Vega said with a laugh, "And with any luck, we'll find their command carriers."

The company reluctantly filed out after Jack and Vega ordered them to come back in five hours, after some rest and food. Everyone was elated to have some kind of direction that they didn't want to quit now, but Susan knew it was just nervous energy and once burnt out, would leave everyone the worse for wear and less able to work it out.

The elevator was crammed and Marcus wondered briefly if it had a maximum weight capacity, but it trundled down smoothly if slowly as always, which brought to mind another elevator and his gaze darted to Susan just as her eyes jumped to his and they exchanged a look overladen with that memory and he pulled his face away to break eye contact, feeling a warm rush on the back of his neck, which he ruefully rubbed, flicking his mandibles.

Susan felt the blush rise, unstoppable in all its embarrassing fury. She knew that they'd both been thinking of the same thing and couldn't stop her face from burning hotly as she broke off their gaze, only to have her eyes drag themselves back to him. He seemed just as unable to help himself and she found his blue stare once again locked on her green one. The situation suddenly seemed hilarious to her and her lips twitched of their own accord which she let blossom into a crooked smile.

Marcus felt a flush as she smiled in chagrin at him, as keenly aware of their awkward situation as she and felt his mandibles stretch to echo her and rumbled a small laugh, feeling another flush as he realized that one: it was the first genuine feeling of mirth he'd felt in a very long time and two: he now had everyone's undivided attention and he cleared his throat before their inquisitive stares, "Slow elevator."

Susan snorted a laugh with everyone else and Vega said, "It's not all bad. Lets people get to know each other better."

Susan let out a fullthroated laugh with that one, joined by the others until the cabin shook with the vibrations of it. She couldn't look at him now, just couldn't and held her sides in mirth. It warmed her inside and out as she heard Marcus join them, his low rumble a sonorous counterpoint, musical with its innate harmonies and she was struck with how beautiful his voice was. It sobered her immediately. No, she couldn't let herself have feelings for him. Not amorous ones anyway. He needed a friend, not some silly girl chasing after him with her heart in her hands.

Guiltily, she thought of Paulus and even more shamefully, how she'd failed them both. No, she wouldn't fail them again, Marcus or the memory of Paulus.

Her sudden silence wasn't lost on Marcus as they exited the small room in a rush, he half listened to Massani as he told them all a story about the time he was stuck on an elevator with a rival for three hours trading riddles and jokes, oddly enough it wasn't the usual 'and I was the only one to walk out of there alive' sort. They all got trays of food and sat around together, elbows and knees colliding in friendly manner and he saw, really saw, then, how they loved each other, each and every one, past the barbs and jibes and how the loss of half their number to death or capture had both hurt them to their core and strengthened their regard for the precious few that were left.

He listened and let himself be warmed by the fire of their presence even though he wasn't quite a part of it and thought to himself that this was how it should be, they were a part of each other in a way that his team had never been, would never have been because of the rot he'd let grow at its heart, the deception he'd blinded himself to because of his pride. He swore, no more, Aleia'd not take this from them, he'd be damned if he let anyone do so. He met Susan's gaze from across the table and knew, in his soul, that she thought and felt the same and another feeling awoke in him, so swift and fleeting that he tried to grasp it, to hold onto it, but it eluded him like a quicksilver fish in a muddy stream. But the memory was enough, that mote of joy that graced him for a fraction of an instance, joy that he was not alone.


	15. Chapter 15

Hours later, not the five that was agreed upon, but the eight that was demanded by overtired minds and bodies and Susan found herself back in the galley, knowing without really knowing how that Marcus was still there, that he'd elected to not sleep. But now, as she studied his pensive profile as he sat, elbows resting comfortably on the table, staring down into the cup in his hands maybe this was all the rest he needed for now. It was certainly quiet in the galley, only a few crew members occasionally walking the corridors behind her. Marcus swiveled his head slightly and nodded to her before returning to his stoic silent contemplation.

She sat on the table to his left, using the bench he was parked on as a footrest as she pulled out a datapad with the latest dispatches from field agents and flicked through the entries, setting down the drink she'd brought with her as she perused the files. They sat in companionable silence, the asari and the turian for a long time before Marcus finally sighed, "Should we talk about-?"

She smiled gently at him, ignoring the sudden drop in her stomach, as she sipped her hot tea, some herbal thing from Earth that she found she enjoyed greatly, "Do we need to?"

"Susan..." Marcus didn't really know how to finish his sentence, "I can't-it's not that I don't-"

"You don't have to, Marcus." She dropped her hand on where his was scoring the tabletop with his talons and she suppressed a warm shiver at the feeling of his smooth plates with the slightly grainier texture of the skin between them and squeezed, "I only meant to comfort. There is no...obligation."

He sighed, unhappily, "No, there is. I'm sorry, Susan. For so many things."

He watched her think about what he said, her head tilted slightly to the side as she stared off into space and he almost didn't hear as she replied, "So am I."

What did she have to be sorry for? Marcus let his mind wander in the silence that followed, and, like it had a tendency to do, it gnawed at the obsession in his heart, "I need to find her."

"I know." Plainly said and that made him look up at her, intrigued at the way her eyes shined a little brighter in the gloom of the galley.

"I need to kill her." He voiced it savagely, shocked that his emotions were becoming unshackled, and he felt certain that this peek into the bitter knot that used to be his heart would drive her away, and parts of him hoped it would. He was a monster and she deserved to know it. Other parts of him were already grieving the loss of her company and looked away from her only to be drawn back by her calm reply.

"I know." Susan let him see the trust in her heart, faith in him and was amused when his mandibles flared in surprise. Did he think he was alone in his quest for vengeance? Aleia had so much to answer for, so much grief to be repaid. Susan set the datapad before him, opening a particular file with one long finger. She watched him grow restless as he read, an unholy energy built up within him as his eyes hardened with determination.

Marcus' eyes opened wider with disbelief. Here was the manifest for the Abraxus, the ship that Sanders had told him Aleia was stationed on and there was her name near the top. Second in command, how high she had risen and yet in all the things that mattered, honor, duty, how low she had fallen. Was power her price? Was his brother dead because she had wanted rank and prestige? A low menacing grumble sounded from his chest and he clenched his fist to regain a hold over the tide of anger that flooded his mind.

Susan spoke, her voice keyed to a lower register meant to calm and she saw reason return to his eyes as he turned to hear her, "I have the duty logs along with records of the last few places the Abraxus docked."

He scanned the file and grunted, a small sound of derision, "They've grown complacent. Look at how regularly they visit some of these planets. Predictable. Sloppy. Like they've forgotten everything my uncle taught them."

Susan saw excitement, eagerness now in the way his hands opened and closed reflexively. Then the turian stilled and glanced at her and she saw with a flash of dismay how hooded and defensive his expression became, how his breath hitched as he seemed to ready himself for some blow.

A thought occurred to him and with it, a pang of apprehension. What was she going to want in exchange for this valuable information? Marcus studied her face, which seemed to fall at his silent query, but it was a question he had to ask, even of her, though he dreaded it, the asking and the answer, "Susan...I don't have anything to-"

Sorrow filled her as she saw just how fragile and abused his trust was and she decided then that she would take nothing from him that he wasn't willing to give. Never again. She shook her head and squeezed his wrist, "It's yours, Marcus. Every scrap of intel I can find."

Deep and abiding gratitude washed through him along with guilt, flushing the skin of his throat and, unable to help himself, he reached for her, drawing her into an embrace, sliding her along the table so she sat in front of him, her legs angled to one side of him. He buried his face in the soft material at her belly, keening softly, eyes tightly shut. He smelled saltwater and felt splashes of liquid on his fringe and knew she was weeping and willed her not to, not for him.

Susan held him as he trembled and made that piteous sound that was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking. Turians sang their grief, she hadn't known that. They seemed so stern, so stoic. She wondered at a people that were crafted for war and discipline, at how deeply they felt under their hard exteriors. Or perhaps it was just Marcus. His still waters held a shocking depth and she felt the warmth of his embrace even through his armor, that blue and black affair she knew he hated, but wore because he was a soldier and no soldier went without.

She rocked him gently and crooned and he wondered at how she knew to do that and then he let it go, just for now, the fear, the loneliness and let himself be comforted. His arms slackened slightly from around her waist and he turned his face to rest his cheek on her lap in exhausted relief. Here was someone he could let his defenses down around, at long last. It seemed an age since he'd been able to, not ever since...Paulus. Caesar hadn't counted because it hadn't been a conscious decision to do so. Confiding in a beast was different and he still ached at that small betrayal, not the least because he missed the shaggy thing. He hadn't realized how much til now. The casual comfort of the presence of someone other than himself, a reminder that he still existed, that he mattered to someone.

She rested one hand lightly on his fringe and the other on his shoulder and her crooning became something more, something complex and melancholy, it seemed to pull at him somehow and he listened with fascination. He hadn't known that she could sing, there were no words, just waves of glorious sound that buffeted him gently, soothing his raging heart and he felt...understood, though in what fashion he couldn't fathom.

Susan watched his eyelids droop and with a small amount of amusement, thought that maybe she could sing him right into the slumber he so sorely needed, but she stopped just short, knowing that he might not think it a kindness if he knew what she was doing. It wasn't precisely manipulation, but it tasted of it vaguely and she wouldn't do that to him, not after all he'd been through. So she let the song, his song, close, winding to completion on a high note, softly drifting away on the air. She heard the sounds of movement around her start up again and smiled, the crew had paused to hear her. She wondered what they thought, seeing them here like this, but waved it away, the scuttlebutt on this ship wasn't her concern. There were other far more pressing matters to keep her up at night.

"I didn't know you could sing." His voice drifted up to her and she glanced down to see his blue eye fixed on her.

She smiled, "My...mother wanted me to become this great musician. Got me the best training money could buy. Singing lessons, piano, harp, corio, the multiple pipes the drell use in their bonding ceremonies, whatever I could get my hands on really. She had plans for me to eventually travel to all the opulent venues the galaxy had to offer. Sing and play for millions, become famous. You know, that sort of thing."

"Why didn't you?" He couldn't help but feel that she would have been safe then, in that other life. Safe from conflict, safe from him and his bad decisions. One less ruined life on his conscience.

Susan laughed and shrugged helplessly, "I like to fight. And what I think I liked to fight the most were her designs for me and my life. As much as I loved the music, it didn't hold a candle to the feeling I felt the first time I shot a Cain. BOOM!"

He chuckled with her, though her flippant response made him wonder if it hadn't been more than that. "How did your father feel about his little girl running off to join the military?"

"My, uh...Javik didn't see a problem with it, but then again, the people of his cycle were pressed into military service at the ripe old age of nine. Just big enough to hold and shoot a rifle." Her eyes clouded over with a pained emotion and she grimaced, "He should be here..."

"Javik the last Prothean is your father?" His browplates lifted in surprise.

She colored prettily and played with her lip with one long fingered hand, "I, um, actually don't know. He never said he was and it never felt right calling him dad, you know? And mom never said, she was very good at dodging the issue. But then, she was the Shadow Broker."

"Hn." Was all he could think to say to that particular revelation. Surrounded by powerful people since birth, and he'd found her a simple grunt on some backwater planet elbow deep in blood. Life certainly had its odd twists and turns. Marcus lifted his head from her lap, frowning at the creases his hard plates had left in her trousers and he cleared his throat as he ventured a question, "Do you think he was captured?"

Another pained grimace and he lamented bringing up such an emotionally charged subject, but Susan answered, openly, "I...hope that that isn't the case, but someone has to be in that sixth carrier, right?"

"...right." That didn't make things any easier, especially since they knew what was happening to the Shepards' 'apostles' and he could see the thought of it haunting her, in the tight creasing of the skin around her eyes, the way she bit her lip. He felt an irrational urge to pull that lip out from between the teeth that were savaging it and frowned again, mandibles flicking in confusion at his body's quizzical reaction to her nearness.

"What Kala said...about your...sister..." Susan's voice was hesitant, she didn't want to broach the subject if it meant that he would become as tense and withdrawn as he'd been when she'd first walked in the room.

Marcus sighed, "I've thought about it. I wish she'd said which sister, but the way I see it, it doesn't matter if she meant Lucia or Damalia. I know they were both on dangerous assignments. More than likely they were at the epicenters of the conflict, which means whichever one Kala meant is probably dead. Maybe both."

It was coldly said, but Susan could see that it hurt him not to know, and she wanted to reach for him, let him know he wasn't alone, but she didn't dare, this moment of disclosure and trust was too precious to let her urges shatter it with a misstep and she spoke, softly, "We could look for them."

"No." The word came out sharp and abrupt and even he seemed startled at how loud it was in this room and he shot her a look of apology before explaining, "No, I can't look them in the eye and tell them what happened to Paulus, not until...after. Then, maybe, it'll be time to start picking up the pieces."

Susan nodded in understanding and dropped the topic, giving a great sigh, which was echoed by him as he set his chin down on her knee, and he pulled at her clothes slightly and she felt a sudden desperation in his movements and her eyes snapped onto his, where they burned up at her beseechingly. Her heart gave a painful thump as she waited for him to speak, which he did in a tentative voice that was so unlike him as to make her swallow in anxiety, "Susan...will you...help me? Find her, that is...please?"

Marcus didn't want to ask it of her, never wanted to drag someone else into his personal vendetta, but it was clear from his earlier fumbling failed attempts that he was getting nowhere on his own. Susan's abilities, her skill, her uncanny knowledge and how to get more of it, and more to the point, her...faith in him, he needed it, as much as it pained him to involve her.

"You need never ask, Marcus. I'm here for you." Swept into another embrace, she was glad that he couldn't see her face as she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. Starved for contact, he seemed loathe to let her go as he clutched her tighter. Susan bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears back and did her best to ignore the growing heat spreading in her body, and felt her cheeks heat with a blush.

His intoxicating warmth and scent were doing funny things to her stomach, and making her heart thud in her chest and she knew that it would probably be safer to get some distance from this man before she did something unwise, but she couldn't bring herself to disengage the hug, for fear that the action would be misinterpreted as a withdrawal of her offer of comfort and that was the last thing she wanted to do, make him feel alone again. So she suffered in silence and held him as tightly as she dared until he moved back on his own, his eyes shining up at her in heartbreaking gratitude.

Marcus felt a rush of embarrassment for letting his emotions get the better of him and looked away from her, rubbing the back of his neck and became suddenly aware of how close they were, how intimately close she was to him and he stood hastily, with an awkward lurch, stuttering slightly as he said, "I'm-uh, g-gonna go wash up. See you at the, um, the, uh-"

Amusement colored her voice as she provided, "The meeting?"

"Yeah, that." Still unable to look her in the eye, he turned away, pausing before he turned the corner out of her sight, "Susan...?"

"Yes, Marcus?" His sudden uncertainty was endearing, she'd never thought to see him so out of sorts and just kept a giggle from escaping her throat.

"Thank you." And with that he left, and she listened as his footsteps retreated, the soft whoosh of the crew bathroom finally separating his presence from hers and she pondered the deeper sincerity she'd heard in his last two words with an aching heart. What was she doing? Help him, fine, no, more than fine. It was what she owed him, but this other thing, her attraction to him and the other feelings that were blossoming just under it, how did she let things get so tangled?

She had her own mission and while at the moment, their goals were aligned, there was no guarantee that they would always be so. She had a sinking feeling that she was setting herself up for some serious hurt in the near future and gave herself a reassuring hug, arms wrapped around her own middle and winced as the action brought a waft of his scent up to her nose, similar to the scent of his brother, but spicier, not as earthy and oh, so very distracting.

Really, now that she'd promised, she couldn't go back on it, no matter how she felt in his presence. No matter how far his heart was out of reach, it was pretty clear that he didn't want to pursue any...relations with her and she could content herself knowing that she was helping him, barely. She sent a prayer to the Goddess that it would all work out for the better in the end and held the hope for such in her soul, that it would turn out for the better for everyone.


	16. Chapter 16

A month passed, far more quickly than it had any right to. Marcus' days were eaten up by the relentless hunt for answers, small surgical strikes on far flung planets with little to no enemy presence, a string of leads that gave them the shape of Miranda's life after Shepard. Susan became an extension of himself, like an arm he'd never known he was missing and each time she pulled through for him, every time she showed him unconditionally that she trusted him, he took one step back from that yawning edge of despair and madness, the howling pit in his mind.

Not that he was losing his purpose, or his focus. If anything, it was re-sharpening his will and some days, he caught a glimpse of the idea that a sword could be reforged after shattering. It was painful, the loosening knot of bitterness in him, but overshadowing it was the enormous gratitude he felt for each recovered inch, every reclaimed part of him that surfaced in the wake of the retreat of his hate. So very grateful, it made him ache. That she did this...giving with such effortless grace awed him, set him trembling whenever he thought of his own flaws, flaws that she could surely see and should condemn him for, yet she didn't.

And still she gave. Many an evening, he'd find himself at her door and she'd let him in without a word, without a single question. She knew without asking what he needed, which was just as well, for he had no words for it that felt like the truth. And...afterward, lying nude on her faintly scented sheets while his flesh cooled, with her soft alien body tucked against his, he would stare at the ceiling of her cabin, his restless spirit calmed, peace filling him with a pleasant lassitude and he would sleep. His consciousness would drop like a rock in an ocean swell, falling far far away from the judgement of the damning light of his own self recrimination, deep and empty of horror, _safe_.

Such moments were fast becoming precious to her, and she waited until his breathing evened out, until the roar of his heart became a steady, slow tattoo in the chest under her cheek and she would pull herself up on one elbow and just watch him sleep. She would watch the rise and fall of his chest, hear the faint reverberation in his throat that held too many harmonies to be called snoring. Whatever it was, she was growing to love it, as well as the beauty of his face in repose, so serene, almost gentle despite the hard plates that it was made up of and the hardships that etched it so deeply when he was awake.

The thought made her stumble mentally and she berated herself for her foolishness, even as she ran the flat plane of her hand over his chestplates and down his muscular midriff, fingers pausing over every scar. There were quite a few at his sides, crisscrossing in patterns, they looked like clawmarks and she grimaced ruefully as she thought that they were probably the signature of the same author of the deep puncture wounds all over his shoulders and neck. All in semi circular patterns, just little half moons in all the soft places.

Susan wondered if this was the norm among turians, if so, he'd never tried to bite her, no matter how passionate their bouts were and as for clawing, except for that first time, he'd not left anything deeper than a scratch. And that first time, well, he hadn't exactly been in his right mind anyway and she was lucky that he hadn't broken her in half in his half blinded zeal. She shivered as she recalled just how strong turians were physically, how easily he lifted her to him. It never failed to surprise her every time.

Her breath hitched as he shifted, pulling her closer, his right hand settling easily on her shoulder, and a glint of metal out of the corner of her eye brought another curiosity to mind. It was some sort of cuff, some piece of restraint that encircled his wrist and she knew instinctively he never took it off. No doubt he'd tell her the why of it if she asked, but she'd never worked up the nerve to, a clenching in her guts told her that she wouldn't like whatever it was he would say about it. Maybe someday she would give in and seek the answer, but for nothing would she shatter this fragile respite.

The curve of his hip was fascinating under her hand, how it jutted away from his body at an angle, and how it led to a sleek, trimly muscled thigh. She swore there wasn't an ounce of waste on the man, maybe a product of training, or his time on Alchera, more likely. Her fingers explored the spur on his calf curiously. And found that it wasn't hard or inflexible in the way bone was, but was some sort of cartilaginous structure, that gave slightly under pressure.

She indulged her natural curiosity as she breathed in his scent, so uniquely his own, even though it was similar to Paulus' and wondered if all turians smelled so invitingly good. She'd never had occasion to find out, only having been this intimately close to two. Intimate, now there was a thought. Is that what they were, intimate? It was a word she'd always associated with couples. And to be honest with herself, she knew that he was unlikely to think of her in that way, ever.

She wondered how he would feel in the meld, if coupling mind to mind with him would be as earthshattering as she imagined it would be and ultimately shied away from the idea. It was appealing and frightening all at once. What if he saw IT, the thing that slept there? What if he saw how she was coming to feel for him? What if he saw the guilt she still carried over his brother's death? She couldn't bear the thought of him turning away from her now.

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and she pulled herself closer to him and his warmth. She had _this_, and his regard as a comrade and an equal. Was it enough? She bit her lip and thrust the thought away, of course it was enough. It had to be enough. All those worrisome doubts niggling away at the back of her mind could just go to hell. And the strident voice of hope too, if it intended to lead her to ruin. And she did feel that she was courting disaster letting herself feel something for him, and she kept her wish for more tightly under wraps.

She would be here for as long as he needed her and firmly resolved to only feel joy when he no longer did, when he'd moved past this terrible time in his life and found someone to make him happy. Maybe give him a family, someone who didn't reek of blood and eezo and war. She tried to picture him with a turian woman on his arm and five happy children underfoot and was shocked at the heat that rose in her and shook her head in denial. It wasn't right, she had no claim to him. She sighed deeply, whatever he chose, she wished him happiness, in all things.

Closing her eyes, she tried to force sleep onto her anxiety ridden mind and must have succeeded somewhat, for the sudden beeping of her omnitool woke her with a start sometime later, and the device let her know in unapologetic orange text that they had another mission. She scrubbed the sleep from her eyes and gently shook the slumbering turian beside her and just like that, with the opening of his eyes, their moment of peace was broken. With sorrow, she watched him pull his defenses back up, watched the tension seep back into his tall frame as he pulled on his armor.

He turned to extend a hand to her and her guts flipped as their eyes locked and she saw a flicker of true warmth in his, just as the last of his walls dropped into place. But she felt with a pang of intense joy suddenly that they were never meant to keep her out, he'd let_ her_ in, let her see him and she was struck again by how much he trusted her. He motioned to the door, "Shall we?"

* * *

She pulled at the finery that hugged the curves of her body, unaccustomed to wearing such feminine attire. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement. She would have much rather done what she'd always done to infiltrate enemy territory, stay out of the way, be unobtrusive, be unremarkable. But no, this bolder plan, one that she'd argued vehemently against and lost, it was the very definition of the opposite of that strategy.

Marcus seemed just as out of sorts in his new armor. It was blood red and gaudier than the black and blue set, if that was possible. And even more galling, the huge shepherd's crook that emblazoned its right side. He'd snarled when he'd seen it and been thoroughly rebuffed by Jack and Vega and if they weren't bothered, then how did he have the right to be? They'd actually known Shepard after all. He gritted his teeth and told himself that it was just a means to an end, that was all. He'd put up with being the universe's whipping boy/laughingstock if it meant he'd eventually get to fulfill his purpose.

Currently, they were at a border station waiting for their ride. Susan fidgeted and pulled out a small mirror to check her makeup for perhaps the tenth time. She eyed the blue visage that frowned back with a critical stare and noted that their time aboard the Normandy had erased some of the weariness and stress that had haunted her face. With a sigh, she closed the compact and put it back in her small clutch which dangled from her wrist on a gold chain. She was going to miss them, Massani, Grunt and all the rest. Being around them had somehow felt right, comfortable. But there was no way for them to come with Marcus and her now, not into the lion's den.

A movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention. Marcus shifted nervously from one hip to the other, hands twitching over the twin pistols holstered at his thighs. He wished he had all his weapons loaded and ready, but the rest, the ones that mattered, were in the trunk at his feet. His face was hidden behind a helmet, but she tried to lock gazes with him regardless, "Relax, _Octavius."_

He snorted in reply, "After you, _Matron Elayna."_

_"_Ugh, saying it like that makes me feel old. And guilty for some reason." Susan sneered slightly, putting Marcus in mind of another asari, on far Omega and he wondered briefly how the criminal kingpin was doing, if she'd made good on her schemes yet. Susan nudged him and he obediently turned his attention back to her and she smiled up at him with a mischievous glimmer in her eye, whispering in confiding tones, "Let you in on a little secret, I'm terrible with aliases."

Marcus looked at her disbelievingly, shaking his head in mock reproof, "You're telling me that one of the Shadow Broker's top agents can't lie about her name?"

"I know, it's a horrible failing."

"However did you manage this long without being found out?" He said wryly, enjoying this little_ tête-à-tête,_ anything to distract him from how damned uncomfortable this situation was making him. He leaned against the railing in a slouch, eyeing passersby, playing the bodyguard to the hilt. Not a serious threat among them, but it was in keeping with his borrowed persona to glower and be threatening and so he did.

"Well, for one, most people think my name_ is_ an alias. Two, who'd suspect a Susan? Honestly..." Her voice drifted off as a ship, long and sleek, slid unctuously into the docking bay. "I couldn't have asked for a more harmless sounding name."

And she was far from harmless, Marcus thought with a sigh, whatever else she was, he knew she was deadlier than most would give her small stature and mildly kind expression credit for. "So, how are we going to pull this off?"

He really did look good in that armor, she decided, though the device upon it marred the whole image. She quirked her brow at him and replied, "Oh, ye of little faith. Just because I have trouble answering to other names doesn't mean I can't act the part I've been given. Watch."

Marcus' brow ridges lifted as all intelligent expression left her face, leaving a pleasant, but vapid smile affixed rather haughtily on her lips. It seemed far from feigned and he was frankly amazed at how ingenious the little asari was and he laughed dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. Looking at her now with all his sharp perception, all he saw was a shallow, conceited female in very rich attire, a courtesan maybe or a spoiled scion of some ridiculously wealthy family. If he didn't know any better, that was. It was...unsettling how complete the illusion was. "Well, that'll explain why you need a bodyguard. Perhaps we should have a caretaker along, too. You know, to mop up any..drooling."

Her voice became a breathy lilt, while the rest of her face didn't change at all, "What, too stupid? I was going for just short of brain damaged."

He chuckled, "No, well, maybe dial it back just a bit. But stupid is perfect, no one worries about the motivations of the simple."

"And if I forget to turn at the sound of my own name, my faithful bodyguard can gently spin me in the right direction." The corner of her mouth was twitching now, but she forced herself to stay in character. This was a persona she had used before on a few occasions and she found it most effective to get her into some places she would otherwise be barred from. The fine clothes and the even finer ship that was even now pulling up to the airlock, that was new. Elayna had moved up in the world, with generous funding from her sponsors. Sponsors that were convenient fronts for the Council's aims. She crooked one finger in a come along gesture as she breezed to the opening hatch, her voice still high and utterly carefree, "Here's our ride."

He followed her past decontamination into a luxury yacht, there really was no other word for it. He'd never set foot in something this...decadent before. Every surface, every plane was designed with aesthetics in mind first, then function. This was a far cry from the utilitarian vessels he was used to, the military didn't go in for this sort of frippery.

"Well if it isn't our Susan." A familiar voice called from the side and they both turned to look and found Simp, a clean, shaved version of Simp, leaning against a door frame, watching their stunned expressions with amusement, "I had an inkling it might be you. Shoulda taken that bet with Errol."

"Simp! What are you doing here, you pirate?" Susan strode toward him and wrapped him in a brief hug. The man hissed in pain and she withdrew with a gasp, seeing the bandages that peeked out from the neck of his shirt and searched his face for a clue, "Simp, what happened?"

The human gave a small shrug and passed a hand over his cropped hair, "It's a...long story. Suffice it to say, the 'Rigger got scuttled. Then we got a job offer that we couldn't refuse."

"Scuttled?" She said, then she looked around, "Is everyone else here, too?"

Pain flashed in the man's eyes, as well as remorse, "Just me and Errol now. Martin got spaced and Rahz, well, Rahz went down under a storm of bullets, just like he always wanted, the daft krogan."

"Oh, Simp, I'm so sorry." Reaching out, she squeezed his shoulder in sympathy and Simp smiled at her in gratitude before turning to Marcus.

"I see you're still hovering about in our Susan's shadow. Keeping her out of trouble?" The man clasped his hand warmly and Marcus allowed himself a smile as he nodded, genuine and also tinged with sympathy for the man's loss of comrades and friends. Simp chuckled, "And learning to be a bit less grim, I see. All to the good, I s'pose. Let me show you the master suite, Susan. Crew cabins are below, Marcus. Find an empty one and settle in."

Susan followed Simp along the starboard side of the ship and let out a tiny gasp when the door ahead whooshed open and she saw the size of the quarters she was expected to make a home of for the next few weeks. It was ridiculously ostentatious and expansive, it must take up half the deck. From the door, it opened onto a common area of sorts, for entertaining she supposed and it reminded her so very sharply that this job was like nothing she'd ever done before really. There would be no safe haven to relax, she would be expected to invite the enemy right onto this ship, right into her quarters. It was daunting.

There were sleeping quarters to one side, the view of the bed warped and twisted by sheets of distorted glass. There was a tub in the corner that wasn't so much hidden as slightly obfuscated by a low wall. A blush rose in her cheeks as she realized its purpose wasn't so innocent and it was clearly built for more than one. Far from the impersonal communal showers of the military, it tempted thoughts of hedonism and debauchery with its very presence. It drove home the point that Matron Elayna might also be called upon to get extra close to a particular foe and she spun to Simp, saying ruefully, "Is it too late to go back?"

Simp smiled tightly in understanding, and shook his head at her chidingly, "It's always too late to go back, Susie. Just do what I do, run madly at the future like the bastard owes ye money. Ye ken?"

Such simple wisdom, from a mercenary no less. But then, no one was_ just_ a..anything. Labels were dangerous because they tried to simplify something as complex as a person into just what they do or are. Susan sighed in a huge exhale of breath and stepped into her quarters, setting her carryall by a desk gingerly and said, "Well, I guess there's nothing for it but to do it. Know where we're headed?"

Simp nodded, "Aye. Well, the ship does."

Susan's brows furrowed, "The ship..."

"Er..on paper, I'm the pilot, so when you're entertaining in your parlor, that's where I'll be, in the cockpit, hoping no one peeks over my shoulder to see that I ain't got no earthly idea what the hell I'm doing. But really..."

"Just spit it out, Simp." She pouted at him and he laughed.

"Well, on this ship, there was three of us. Errol, me and a, um...geth."

"What?!"


	17. Chapter 17

There were indeed empty cabins below and Marcus picked one of the identical cubicles at random. It didn't matter, really, so he didn't dwell in the impersonally appointed space for long, just long enough to stow his gear, armor stored on a rack made for it in the corner. He then took in all the potential exits and entrances, just in case. Then he wandered out into the ship, getting a feel for the lay of it. All the support areas were really small, and efficiently laid out, life support, engineering, crew compartments, all packed together neatly at the fore of the ship, while the more richly decorated portions were aft and above, an impressive sight to greet any visitors.

He wondered who owned this barge before the Council put it in their hands and he pondered on it until he found a familiar turian standing in the midst of what was surely a galley, though he'd never seen one with this many stoves and ovens and things and not a single table for dining, it was a kitchen and nothing more. The turian turned slightly at his approach and huffed a short greeting. "Marc."

"Errol." Marcus sat at the counter where it looked like Errol was carefully arranging small bitesize foods on plates, morsels that looked invitingly good and his stomach growled, drawing a scowl from the busy man in front of him.

"These aren't for you." He said pointedly, as he wrung a piping bag in his hands, dropping a dollop of some sort of pink cream on the plates. It was an oddly delicate task to see the merc perform, but one he seemed fastidiously capable of doing. Marcus wondered at the man's skill with food as the dark grey turian spoke again, "They're levo anyway. Won't make your stomach growl any less."

"I don't suppose there's any-"

Errol interrupted with a dismissive wave, "There's nutrient paste in the cooler, the blue ones are dextro."

Suddenly, he wasn't so hungry and he sat in pensive silence as he watched Errol work, resting his chin on his hand.

"What? Too good for nutrient paste?" Errol said, his tone sharp enough to make Marcus straighten.

"I'm not all that hungry." He said simply, his bland expression defusing the other's hostility.

With a harrumph, the turian turned back to his task, hands moving deftly. Marcus saw that the food was being arranged artfully, some on tiers, some alone on tiny saucerlike plates and once completed, were carefully placed in the cooler, where he caught a glimpse of trays of similar, all in a row. Errol shot him a look, frowning, "You just going to sit there and stare at me?"

"It's interesting. I just never thought _you'_d have such culinary expertise." Errol's face grew dark and cloudy as the turian picked out the slight emphasis on 'you'. Marcus held his hands up defensively, "Hey, I didn't mean that as an insult."

"I wasn't always a merc, you know. Wasn't born with a grenade in one hand and an assault rifle in the other." _Like you seem to have been,_ said the turian's face as Errol eyes him warily and then threw his hands in the air, turning to the fridge and pulling out some small packages. Nimbly, he sliced them open, revealing some sort of purplish meat, which he cut into cubes. Marcus hid his unease at the sudden presence of a rather large knife, but the other ignored him as he pulled out a couple of pans and lit the burners. Fire blazed as the room soon filled with the mouthwatering smell of sizzling meat and Marcus' stomach growled in earnest, loud and demanding immediate attention much to Marcus' chagrin, earning him a small grin from the recalcitrant man at the stove. Errol said, his voice wistful, "When I was in the military, I was my cruiser's Mess Sergeant. I ran that ship's kitchen like it was my own little fiefdom. I was a tyrant to my subordinates, but we got the job done, the men were fed. But my passion, I saved for the officer's table and I have to say with no little pride that my CO often invited other officers aboard just to eat my creations. It was a great life."

Errol plated the meat, arranging some sauteed vegetables around it, some Marcus recognized as coming from Palaven, some completely new to him and then Errol went back to the stove and was doing something with the juices from the meat, adding things from the drawers next to him and stirring it all briskly with a device that looked like a bunch of bent wires attached to a handle. Marcus ventured a question, "What happened?"

The turian paused, then resumed at a slower pace, his shoulder's stiff, and he said reluctantly, "I was careless and made a mistake. Nearly killed an admiral. How was I to know he was highly levo-intolerant? I thought they weeded that sort of thing out of the military. Still, it was my fault, regardless. Shouldn't've cross contaminated the two chiralities."

The plate was set before him and he inhaled its tantalizing aroma, his mouth watering and he took the proffered prongs Errol held out in his hand and speared a chunk of beautifully seared meat, the sauce Errol made from its juices dribbling down its sides and brought it to his mouth. It was so tender that it virtually fell apart as he attempted to chew and the flavor was indescribably incredible, exquisitely balanced between savory and tart. His eyes closed involuntarily as he dwelt on the many, varied and complex flavors. Finally, he allowed himself to swallow and opened his eyes to see Errol hovering anxiously, obviously waiting for some response or critique. Marcus was at a loss for words and instead let his mandibles flare out in an expression of amazement.

Mollified, the man across from him sat before his own plate, sighing, "Finally, someone who appreciates good food."

And appreciate it he did, every bite slowly tasted and enjoyed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something this good, probably never and as he sopped up the last of the sauce with the vegetables, he spoke to his dinner companion, "Thank you, Errol. It was, hm, delicious isn't a big enough word."

That startled a laugh out of the turian and he smirked, "Well, good food deserves a good eater. I'm gratified to see you didn't just shovel it all in like most soldiers do."

"Have you ever _had_ nutrient paste? The goal is to tuck it away as fast as possible so you don't have to taste it any more." Pleasantly full, he hummed contentedly, "I suppose after that it just becomes habit."

"You don't seem to have fallen prey to that particular bad habit." It was a statement that was more of a question and Errol watched him closely.

Marcus shrugged, "There was a time when all I had to eat was nutrient paste, day in, day out, just nutrient paste. For...months."

"That sounds like a story to me." Errol said conversationally, hands steepling before him, elbows flanking his empty plate.

Marcus winced, sharing wasn't exactly his strong point and everyone seemed to want a story, but parts of this one were harmless enough, "I was marooned on a planet for quite some time, all I had was my crashed ship's provisions. At the time, I didn't know if there was any life on that frozen rock. Or if it was even edible."

"An ice planet?" Errol shivered, as though he could feel the coldness that still stood forward in stark relief in Marcus' memory. "How did you survive?"

"Well, I had food, such as it was, I found shelter and I built a beacon out of scraps and salvaged parts." He kept it simple, straight forward.

"How long til you were found?" Errol leaned forward.

"...A year or so." No need to mention the slavers that came for him, or what subsequently happened to them.

Errol whistled between his teeth, a curious sound that dropped at the end. It was so...un-turian, probably something he picked up from the humans, "Nutrient paste...for a whole year. Ugh."

"Ugh indeed. So you see why I'm reluctant to eat it now."

"Right." Errol straightened up, "And why you've let yourself become a savage."

The other turian pointed a blunted talon at Marcus' hands, where evidence of his disregard for what used to be an ingrained societal convention was out for the world to see. Marcus had the sudden urge to hide his overlong, oversharp talons behind his back like a naughty child. He felt a flush along his neck. It was an outward manifestation of his inner loss of control and he wondered why he hadn't bothered correcting this one thing. Maybe because it seemed so insignificant in the face of the larger wrongs. A savage, though, is that what he was? Possible, he'd certainly acted savagely at times, his memory fed him the sensation of hot blood splashing his face and hands as well as the fierce elation that had accompanied it.

"And I see your face is still bare." Baldly said in sharp tones of reproof, making him freeze. Errol's previous hostility seemed to be making an appearance in the glare the turian was leveling at him from across the way.

Marcus clenched his fists as a flash of anger seared through him for a moment, then he relaxed. What else could he do? It was more than deserved, after all, "I am still without honor. Painting my face would be a lie."

"Good that you don't then." Sniffed Errol, derisively, looking away for a moment.

He was puzzled by the other's behavior, why did he care? It's not like anything Marcus was doing was even any of his business. Marcus' problems were not Errol's to concern himself with, so why did the other seem invested somehow, "Errol, why this...animosity toward me? Have I wronged you somehow?"

The turian shot him a venomous look and crossed his arms over his chest, and there was silence for a long time as Marcus watched thoughts get sorted behind the other's steady heated gaze. Finally, Errol said, "You offend me. Just your presence offends me. I don't have to see your bare face to know you for a pretender. A liar."

Marcus thought long and hard about what could possibly have instigated the snarl that pulled Errol's lips back, the hostile gleam in the man's eye. Tension built between the two men and Marcus had an inkling that if the other dared, he would have leapt across the table already, hands around Marcus' throat. Why was this so personal to the man? He'd never met or seen him before bringing Susan to the 'Rigger, had he? Oh, but the man had seen_ him_, hadn't he? In that damned vid and his mind made the intuitive leap, and he voiced a conclusion he was suddenly very sure of, "This is about the Archangel thing, isn't it?"

That earned him an actual hiss and if Errol had been a varren, his hackles would most certainly be raised. Marcus kept his posture deliberately nonthreatening, but made it clear that he wasn't backing off the subject. Errol spat, "You are not _him_."

"No, I am not."

"You could never _be_ him."

"You're right." There was a long moment then, just two men staring at each other. One projecting rage, the other calm acceptance of it.

This complete lack of opposition seemed to take the wind out of Errol's sails and he sagged, though his green eyes still glinted hard like flint, "He wasn't just some merc or assassin. I don't like that his memory is being dragged through the dirt by filth like you."

"I didn't like it either." Marcus almost smiled as his calm and utterly true statement made Errol start and look at him with something like astonishment.

"Then why did you do it? Money? Drugs?" Accusations, like the turian needed more reason to hate him.

"Information and the freedom to do what I needed to do with it. The money...I didn't care about. It's probably still sitting in my account collecting dust."

Marcus saw the man stew over that, thoughts flickering in his eyes. Marcus waited patiently for further condemnation, he wouldn't run from this, he was indeed guilty and his guilt would forever be a wedge between him and other people. Except Susan, but that was because...no, he'd rather not think on that too much. He knew very well that she was coming to feel for him and it was another nail in his coffin that he let her. But he couldn't bring himself to put aside the only person who understood him, the only person that knew him from his past, the only one who helped anchor his present. It was impossible, it would be like cutting off his own arm. How selfish was that? He railed at himself, wishing the specter of Paulus would rise up in his mind to chime in its own venomous jibes, but it had been oddly silent of late. He almost missed it.

He shook his head, aware that he was doing what he didn't want to do, dwell on Susan. Brave Susan. Errol broke into his thoughts, his voice hard but no longer filled with such anger, "I met him once, you know."

"Archangel?" He assessed the other man's age briefly, fourth decade maybe, it was possible though no doubt Errol had been young then. This was soon confirmed by his next statement.

"I, well, met is not the right word. It's not like we shook hands or even really spoke for that matter. I was all of...nine, at the time." Errol scratched his fringe as his gaze grew distant with recollection, "My mother and I lived on Omega for a few months while my mother waited for a job to open on this one colony that needed a new head geologist. We were assaulted in an alley by some scum, you know, scavenger types, vorcha, batarians. Slavers, more than likely. They took us to a warehouse where they put us in crates with a bunch of other people, just dozens of scared unfortunate people, all kinds. We stayed there for six days. They didn't feed us and we drank whatever water we could when they blasted the cells with hoses to clean them out.

"They came in from time to time to beat us, yell at us, tell us in detail what they planned to do with us. My mother did her best to hide me behind her as they terrorized us, but one night they came, they were going to do things to my mother, things I didn't understand then, but now, well, just the thought of it makes me want to puke. I ran at them, what I thought I could do against those grown men with my skinny little arms, I don't know, only that I wanted them off my mother. I remember getting thrown to the ground and kicked repeatedly as my mother screamed my name and suddenly all the men were falling over, one right after another.

"Someone picked me up and when the stars faded from my vision, I saw him, towering over me like a giant, a rifle in his hands and he said, 'Are you alright, kid?'" Errol paused, smiling, "I don't think I could have said anything even if I wanted to. I knew he was Archangel. Everyone heard about Archangel and I was actually looking at him. I think I nodded and then my mother ran forward and grabbed me up and ran out of the building, which I realized then was going up in flames. I just got caught a last glimpse of him waving at me over my mother's shoulder, didn't even think to wave back. Didn't even get to say thanks."

He lapsed into pensive silence. Marcus could see now. Errol hated him for impersonating his...hero, savior? For a handful of money and information, no less. Marcus could see how that could rankle. "Shame he died when those mercs ganged up on him. He must have been a good man."

With a flash of a secretive smile, Errol smirked, "Oh, I don't think he died on Omega."

His brows lifted in surprise, Marcus leaned forward unconsciously, "Really? Still alive somewhere then?"

"Probably not. I don't think he would have stood for what's happened to the galaxy."

"You're putting a lot on the assumption that he would still be capable of doing anything if he is still alive. He'd be what, seventy maybe?" Marcus frowned as a thought jingled distractingly in the back of his mind, but he was too focused on the conversation to pay it any mind for now. He pushed it away as he spoke, "Plus, he was just one man, on one station. He didn't even put that much of a dent in Omega's criminal organizations before his brilliant, but short career as a merc hunter was cut short. Just that on its own tells me that he's not around any more. There'd be signs, Omega would still have been plagued by rampant vigilantism, that sort of thing."

Errol shot him a look that said, _Shows what you know, _"I got a few theories on that score."

"Such as?" Despite himself, Marcus was drawn in.

The other smirked, "Seems I've done most of the talking here, how bout a trade? You tell me why this-" He gestured at Marcus' face and hands and basically all of him, "suddenly has so much weight in the galaxy, powerful allies like the crew of the Normandy, the backing of the Council as well as the Shadow Broker and maybe I'll share a few."

Marcus felt anger coil in his guts, this turian wanted something, they all did. Only in this case, the scales were very uneven. He wasn't going to bare his soul to this merc for the pitiful price of pointless esoteric knowledge of a man long dead. So, he stayed silent, mandibles clamped tightly to his face. Matching his obstinance, Errol tried to stare him down until finally, Marcus sighed, and said, if only to quell the burgeoning streak of anger in the other man's eyes, "Wrong place at the right time, I guess. If it helps, they're not backing me, they're backing Susan."

"Oh." Suddenly deflated, the turian lifted his browplates, and said without words, _then why are you here?_

To which he shrugged, not because he didn't know the answer but because he wasn't about to share it, but something in his stance must have given away something of his thoughts and the other turned away suddenly. Marcus let him assume that it was something personal between Susan and him. It was easier and turians don't talk about relationships, ever. Unless they were family, family was forgiven intrusion. Errol was definitely not family and thus, this part of the conversation was over and he was grateful for it, the timely intervention of turian convention.

Errol cleared his throat, "Where's that thing of yours? The shaggy thing?"

"Gone." A pang of remorse in his guts, but he shrugged it off and said, "He's not mine. I don't own him."

"Hmph...Okay." Failing to coax more out of him, Errol shifted anxiously and said, "Hope the rest of us aren't as expendable to you. That thing, whatever it was, seemed loyal."

He wanted to yell, _of course not! _He wanted to feel angrier at the presumption, but failed miserably, because all the times Caesar could have taken advantage of him and didn't, could have abandoned him to die and didn't and at the first challenge to the trust he'd felt in and from the creature, he'd faltered. And why? It's not like telepathy was a complete unknown in the cosmos, asari did that thing with their minds, melding Paulus had called it once upon a time. He wondered about that actually, why Susan never shared that with him, not that he really wanted to. There were still too many dark corners in his mind, too many shadows that hid demons.

No, no one was expendable, he shook the thought of it free and dropped his head into his hand. Least of all, her. She deserves better.

"Susan deserves better." Errol echoed his thought, soft enough that Marcus barely heard him. Technically, that was crossing the line but seeing as what the other man was assuming about them wasn't the case, Marcus could hardly find fault with him for so blatant a truth.

"I know."


	18. Chapter 18

"You are too kind, Rigel Praetorian." Susan said liltingly, inclining her head in a graceful nod at her patron's warm welcome. The jewelry threaded around her tentacles jingling musically with the motion.

"Lady, it is only what a true artist such as yourself deserves." The human before her held out a gauntleted hand, which she took with a grateful smile. He led her past the foyer into a smaller room that was still part of this highly populated planet's main Temple. She kept her pace to an easy glide and resisted the urge to see if Marcus was still at her heels, clad head to toe in that crimson shell. She'd no reason to doubt, could almost feel the pressure of his presence, but a glimpse of him would help calm the fluttering in her stomach.

Marcus was glad to see that she'd indeed toned it down, it was just disturbing to see her bright, intelligent eyes become vacant to the point of idiocy. She seemed to have settled somewhere between spoiled society lady and naive tourist. Her obvious disregard or ignorance of local politics and intrigue making those she'd come to entertain relax in her presence. As a ruse, it was alarmingly effective. Another sign that his uncle's teachings had been abandoned. These people were too comfortable in their power and he hoped that it one day led to their downfall.

"Tell me again why we're not using the main chapel?" She said, smiling shyly at her escort.

"My dear, your talents would be wasted on those who would not understand, could not understand. Not like we do." He gestured around the room. It was filled to the brim with the elite of this converted world and fairly reeked of self importance and pomposity. "Besides, they do not need it. The common people have ever been closer to the god, though I doubt they'd ever realize it, being simple in deed and thought. Your efforts should be reserved for those of us who could stand to be enlightened further to the truth."

That had been a shocker, when she'd found out that access to anything about Shepard, her music, the details of her life were far from available to the general populace. In fact, it had become blasphemy for anyone to listen to her music outside of the Temple or even own copies of it. The leaders guarded it jealously, instead beat into the populace a doctrine of ultimate obedience, self sacrifice for the greater good, all things that sounded good on paper but couldn't convey the reality of seeing the blank stares, the shuffling of docile supplicants in this place of white marble. Like any religion, they strove to put themselves between the people and their god, securing the necessity of their rule with commandments and rituals.

Punishment for transgressions like theft, murder, rape were swift and brutal, final. And she had a feeling from what her kind host had already said about the state of this planet that every day there were fewer and fewer transgressions. They clearly took this to mean that they were winning against the baser nature of people. She wondered if it didn't mean something else.

She paused on the dais before turning to take in the faces of the people who waited for her to 'enlighten' them. The man who'd led her there sat himself in the front row and without looking at Marcus directly, she took solace in the red shape of him that lurked in her peripheral vision. She lifted her head and took a measured breath before setting her diaphragm and letting it out in the opening bars of one of Shepard's more popular pieces. Popular for its sweet melody and high coloratura.

The acoustics in this room were far from perfect, but she felt out the right resonance for the space, the best emphasis on pitch and tone. She 'heard' an answering resonance from the people before her and closed her eyes to it and just felt the music for what it was, not what they wanted it to be. It tugged at her and she swayed with it, let it move her limbs however it wished and felt it wash through her, felt it wash through them. She felt the approval of the thing that resided in her mind and flushed with it, in fear and pleasure.

Marcus watched as the sound filled the room with a euphoric sense of wonder, feeling touched by it himself slightly. The faces that stared up at her slackened and he was amused to see that not too few were also swaying in their seats, as though she was controlling them with her waving arms. It was strange and almost mystical, how moved they were by a simple song. How oddly blank their faces became. How incongruously it clashed with what the music seemed to be trying to convey.

It brought to mind what he'd seen on the way here. The streets had not been particularly crowded, but every face had this same blankness, and while they moved with purpose, it seemed a mindless one, a machine-like execution of their tasks only. Unsettling. Unnerving, even. He had the feeling that something was going very wrong out here. Even more wrong than it had already.

He thought back to his long conversation with Ushal back on the ship, 'Leilani' as it was designated. How surprised he'd been when he'd found out that the geth that flew her was none other than his old companion, that the geth had been the first to volunteer when this dangerous and ambitious assignment had been proposed.

At first, all they did was get caught up, Marcus found talking to the machine was so very easy and he felt as though another missing part had been found. He'd been gratified to hear that the telemetry data from their ill fated mission on that far moon had been instrumental in the release of Tali and EDI from the 'web' their minds were caught in and that the geth had been in the main assault on the forces sealing Rannoch away from the rest of the galaxy. He'd waved away his part in it, just glad that it had gone right for someone else for once.

After that, the conversation had moved onto their current objective. By then, Susan had joined him in the cockpit and they pored over astrogation charts together, coming to the conclusion with the help of Ushal's calculations that this planet, the one where Marcus was currently watching Susan woo the leaders of it with a song, this planet was the epicenter, it was ground zero for the epidemic of belief that Shepard was a god. From here it had spread and infected millions, through agents and subtler means, all culminating in the biggest betrayal in living history. It had to have taken much longer than a year to plan. Mutiny on a galactic scale.

That it was also known for its medical industry and research, and that Miranda had been spotted here by Shadow Broker agents at around the same time, couldn't be a coincidence. He was fast coming to believe that there was no such thing as coincidence.

He felt a shiver as the song ended, like some greater understanding was just out of reach, but it fell away promptly and he shook it off, resuming his careful watch over Susan. A glance at his chronometer told him that the better part of an hour had passed, though it felt as though only a few minutes had elapsed. Strange. He eyed the people who stirred in their seats. This bodyguard act had long ceased being an act, she needed someone to watch her back.

"Praise be to the Shepard." She intoned, hand over her heart. The words tasted bitter in her mouth, but she forced herself to say them sincerely and heard it echoed back to her from the people watching. She stepped down lightly, Marcus at her heels in a flash and found an older asari in her path, who looked at her speculatively down a long aquiline nose.

"You have quite the gift, Matron." Shrewd eyes assessed her and Susan reminded herself not to underestimate this woman, who was hundreds of years older than she.

Susan embraced her in asari fashion, cheek to cheek, lifting up on her toes to do so, "I thank you, Matriarch."

"Matron Elayna has graciously offered the hospitality of her ship, Priestess Helmina, for repast." Rigel said, standing beside them in the aisle as the rest of the patrons filtered out.

"How generous. Can she accommodate so many, though, I wonder." Helmina inquired, with a quirked brow.

"It should be more than adequate, Matriarch." She deferred to the powerful woman with a bow, keeping her expression pleasant and empty. Pride assuaged, the asari turned abruptly and glided gracefully out of the room.

Rigel smiled after her and Susan noted the calculating flicker of his eyes and tucked that away for future reference, the man turned to her genially and said, "Our high priestess can be a little overwhelming. Shall we?"

Once again, he escorted her out, back to her ship, where she would soon host enemies, close to her breast. A glance at Marcus and his solid, reassuring presence and she straightened her shoulders. She could do this. She had to do this. She could do anything with him at her back.

* * *

"That one there." His voice was low and almost subvocal as he leaned in to point out a particular man. Susan suppressed a shiver at his nearness and lifted her drink back up to her lips, its sweet aroma almost too sweet. A small sip of the powerful beverage, though her nerves screamed at her to take huge gulps to steady herself for this next crucial task. Lucky for her that her new 'friend' Rigel the praetorian was at that moment conversing with the drell, one of the few here that wore no insignia of rank that she could see, just a modest chain with a shepherd's crook around his striped neck.

She plastered a small vapid smile on her face and approached the two men, "Rigel, where have you been? You promised to show me the gardens...Oh, hello, have we been introduced?"

"This is Makryth Augurer. He runs the administrative side of our...projects." Rigel stood back as Susan clasped the drell's extended hand delicately and she saw herself reflected back in his large, dark eyes, her face painted prettily and an unfamiliar expression of mild conceit giving it a haughty air. A distorted vision of herself that was unsettling to the core and now she knew why she hated aliases. They showed her how easy it was to pretend to be someone else, to lie. The world was uncertain enough without not being sure just exactly who the person you were talking to was. But she shook it off for now and gave the man a nod in response to his half bow.

"I don't get to meet many drell. Let alone augurers. What does an augurer do?" Her voice dripped innocent curiosity and she watched the other's lips turn up at the corners.

"Mostly I make sure the coffers are full, but mostly they come to me when they need ideas." His voice held interesting subharmonics, not the ringing thirds of turians, but a soft sussuration just below the natural timbre.

"Don't let him fool you with this humble act. He'd be the first to tell you about his grand Vision if he weren't playing modest." This earned him a sharp look from the drell. One that clearly said he'd overstepped his bounds.

"My praetorian makes too much of my contributions. We are all just servants of the Shepard." There was a deep flicker in the drell's eyes as he said this and Susan felt alarms go up in her mind. This was a true believer, and fanatics were always far more dangerous than they seemed. She would have to tread carefully.

She said, "The Shepard would surely bless your selfless endeavors."

Makryth smiled and had the grace to nod, "The god already has. We have enjoyed an unprecedented period of peace and prosperity on this world and it is our fondest hope to share it with the rest of the galaxy."

"All in due time, of course." Rigel said, placating the other man with a respectful bow.

"Yes, they will all know the truth of the Shepard. And there will be joy and peace forever." Makryth's eyes were far away for quite some time before they found their way back to Susan's. She let her eyes drop coquettishly and was gratified to see interest spark in the other as the man spoke softly, "Thank you for your performance in the Temple, Matron Elayna. It's not often we hear the work of the Shepard sung with such love. It will be a memory I will relive often."

"Please just call me Elayna. We all contribute. It is all I have to give the god as tithe." She demurred.

Makryth made a sound deep in his throat, not quite a hum, "How long can we expect you to stay?"

"My original engagement was contracted to be a week, but it's not often that I get to stay somewhere so...civilized. Perhaps I can stay a little longer." _With good reason, _her tone said, inviting him to give her one.

"We would be pleased to host you for as long as you would like to stay." Makryth clasped her hand warmly in the two of his and she let herself smile in pleasure at him. "As I seem to recall that you have a fondness for gardens, perhaps you would like to visit my villa while you are here. I have quite a nice conservatory there with many rare indigenous flora."

"I think I'd like that, augurer."

"Please, surely if I can have the pleasure of calling you by name, then you may do the same." He put her hand on his arm and led her to the banquet tables, where the morsels Errol made did call to her invitingly. She briefly met the gaze of that turian himself, who stood there as a servant. His manner was perfectly solicitous as he handed her a new glass of fire brandy, but his eyes flicked to the side and behind her in concern.

Marcus was fighting a battle with himself. His senses were screaming that they were surrounded by hostiles, that he should be laying waste to them with the pistol at his hip, the grip of which his hand kept caressing. It was good that they couldn't see his face behind the helmet or the game would surely be given away. It helped that Susan was so very relaxed, but then again these games of intrigue and subterfuge had been hers for a year. He used all his discipline to keep it all under wraps, the only outward sign that all was not well inside his armor an occasional shifting from one hip to another, and the clenching of his hands.

"Something amiss with your...companion?" Makryth asked, following the line of Susan's gaze as she nonchalantly glanced behind her to the stiff figure of Marcus.

She laughed, high and breathy, "Oh, that's just Octavius Legionnaire. On loan from the Authority. He takes his job as my bodyguard very seriously."

The tension in him broke with her laugh and he made himself adopt a relaxed posture. Still wary as a bodyguard should be, but feigning comfort among these 'allies' in red attire all around him.

The drell laughed as well, "As he should. Obedience to duty is hardly a fault."

"Relax, Octavius. Your hovering is starting to annoy." She admonished him, her lips in a slight pout. He wondered if she knew how childish the expression was and smiled in his helmet. Of course she did, all these were weapons in her arsenal.

"Yes, Matron." He bowed and took a step back.

They all took her cue to dismiss his presence and once again, Marcus became just her shadow, everpresent, but not a threat in any way.

"Here is the key to my extranet address when you wish to visit. I look forward to it." His words dripped meaning layered over meaning and she took the data crystal from him and tucked it safe away in her clutch. She'd have Ushal analyze it later, for surely there would be surprises on there. No one was that trusting, but she put a trusting smile on her face so hide her suspicions.

She gave the man's hand a warm squeeze, letting her lips part seductively, suppressing a triumphant smirk as the drell's eyes tracked the movement of her tongue as it flicked out to wet her full lips and sighed, "As do I...Makryth."


	19. Chapter 19

"You see, a virtual Eden in the middle of the desert. Imagine if this lush growth extended over and beyond those dunes past my fences." Makryth leaned closer to her, his dark eyes trying to trap hers with their enthusiasm. Over the last few days, they'd met, over food, over entertainment and always this burning obsession sparkled in his eyes. Inwardly, she recoiled, but outwardly, she only showed fawning adulation, welcoming his advances along with listening intently to his fanatical ranting, "That, in essence, is what we will do for the galaxy."

"It is beautiful, Makryth. Though the desert has its charms as well." Susan said, airily, looking at the sandy wastes past his shoulder out of the corner of her eye_. _Not this climate controlled chamber with its cultivated exotic plants, carefully manicured and pruned beds, everything pretty, but so very...artificial. No, she decided, she didn't care for this garden, with its forced gaiety. Not that she'd showed it at all, keeping an enraptured smile on her lips as she leaned in to smell a flower, a huge red riot of spiky petals that bobbed gently on the end of its stem at her.

"Don't I know it. My race was birthed on a desert planet. But..." The drell's lips tugged at one corner and as he spoke, his breath took to gliding along her neck in a warm zephyr. She shivered at the sensation, more out of discomfort than anything, but her face, she kept open and interested and he took her trembling to mean what she wanted him to, that his nearness was affecting her, arousing her, "I hate the desert. Desolate, harsh, a battle for survival every day, every moment. Not enough water, or food, too much heat. A sun that would bake you in your skin if you were unwary. Would it not be better to have this? Calm beauty, where there was no toil, no struggle. Peace."

"That would be a glorious day." She couldn't lie to herself, she had wondered what a galaxy at peace would be like. Who didn't? For it seemed the periods between conflict were not so much a state of peace as a chance for all sides to catch their breath and plan the next bloody campaign. Some thought pulled at her gently, how would people change without the constant state of strife that was every day existence? If suffering was abated for all peoples, all worlds, would it not be a blessed thing?

But she'd seen the people in the street. Makryth wasn't talking about raising them up, leveling the playing field so all beings were equal and could share the load equally. Manual labor done by laborers in threadbare clothes, silent people drifting from one task to another like programmed service mechs, no joy on their faces, none of the satisfaction in a good day's work that should be there. While the elite enjoyed a life of ease and plenty. He wasn't making their lot better, he was just making so that they wouldn't _care. _And through their forced indifference, he exploited them.

"What are you thinking, my songbird?" Soft, but pebbly fingers ghosted along her jawline and she closed her eyes so he wouldn't see the flash of disgust that rose in her. Her lips parted in a contrived gasp as his thumb stroked her bottom lip, and her face warmed in a blush. She let him tilt her face up and opened her eyes just as the man captured her lips with his own, hearing him groan as she let his tongue invade her mouth, rolling it around her own, tasting the drell's tartly sweet saliva mixing with hers.

Enough the shy, demure maiden, she returned the kiss with fervor, letting her breath out in a pant as she plundered his mouth, almost angrily. And she was angry, inside she was seething in fury. She made this rage seem like passion, though, as his hands began to roam, caressing every part of her as though he had a right to. She felt like her skin was going to crawl right off her bones and the temptation to do_ something,_ she wasn't quite sure what, arose in her from that thing in the recesses of her psyche. A beguiling whisper, nearly audible to her conscious mind, _you can make it so he never does harm again. You can make him cease to exist if you only let-_

Panic flooded her as she pulled away from Makryth suddenly, hiding her sudden aversion by pretending to be out of breath. She gulped air quite a bit more gustily than necessary as she fought an internal battle against the overwhelming shadow that coiled around her spirit. The urge to kill was nothing new and while that particular thought had crossed her mind, she was sure that the compulsion she'd felt had nothing to do with planting a bullet in this enemy's head. It had felt like...utter finality, and somehow more than just death. It was unnerving to say the least.

Makryth seemed deeply affected by her amorous attentions, if the hard length of him pressing against her hip was any indication. He studied her face and to distract him from thinking overmuch, she ground her hip against his erection, smiling wickedly as he outright moaned her alias, his eyes rolling back, "Elayna...I'm starting to think you are a lot more than you seem."

She nipped him under the jaw, trailing kisses along the flushed frills on his neck, and said with a secretive smile, "Aren't we all?"

A dark chuckle from the man who embraced her closer and she thought guiltily of Marcus, who she knew was standing guard just outside the thin screens that surely did nothing to block sound, a mere ten feet away. "Oh, I look forward to getting to know you better, Elayna."

He'd known she was more than likely going to have to seduce the man, that she was going to have to use every weapon at her disposal, even her body, but it didn't make it any easier as he listened to the ardent moans coming from the thinly shielded greenhouse. He hated that she was the one to have to do this, compromise herself in this way. He listened hard to the things they said between the sighs and slightly wet sounds of lips intertwining, letting the analytical part of his mind take over as he fought to ignore everything else. He eyed the sentinels at the door to the main manor, if he dared to leave her alone with that dangerous drell, he'd have slipped past them and been exploring the house, looking for clues. A far deeper search than the cursory tour that Makryth had given them on their arrival.

He knew already from data Ushal had collected from satellites that there was an underground complex under the house, but he didn't know how deep or how large. Telemetry only penetrated a planet's surface so far. There didn't seem to be an entrance to it outside, so logic told him that there was a way in inside the house, probably somewhere in this man's private rooms. Susan would have a prime opportunity to find out. That is, if she ever actually ended up in there.

Just as he thought it, he heard Susan moan, "Not here."

"Shall we retire to my manor?" Marcus wrinkled his nose at the overly stuffy words.

'Elayna' laughed, that high titter that was so very different than Susan's infectiously loud full throated laughs that he felt his hackles raise at the wrongness of it. Marcus wondered how Makryth didn't hear it, but the man was probably not thinking clearly any longer. Susan spoke, and his attention was drawn back to her sharply, "Tonight, my dear Makryth. I have some things to take care of first."

The drell growled, "If I must wait, I must wait."

The pair reached the door and Susan pressed herself to the man with one last long lingering kiss. Marcus watched it out of the corner of her eye, saw the way the skin at the corner of her eye twitched slightly. So, she was unaffected by the man's charms. Marcus felt a wash of relief at that. Not that he'd ever really doubted. Makryth was oblivious as only one in the throes of lust can be. Marcus knew this well and then shook the disturbing thought free, it threatened to draw similarities between Aleia and Susan and he didn't want that, knew that it wasn't right, that Susan could never do what Aleia had done. And yet...

Heat flushed the back of his neck as he saw one of her hands press the other man just so over the not so inconspicuous bulge in his pants, fingers dancing along the shape of it and her voice rolled out over them both in a seductive drawl that made even Marcus' mouth dry suddenly, "I would not leave you...wanting, if it weren't for this pressing business I have in the city. Patience, lover, and I'll make it up to you with a night you'll never forget."

Eagerness filled the drell's face and he devoured her with his gaze, "Oh, I think neither of us will forget tonight any time soon."

Marcus agreed wholeheartedly as he followed Susan to the waiting aircar that would take them back to their ship and set his mind to work picking apart the house's defenses. Well trained sentinels at every major entrance and exit, security systems evinced by discrete wires, cameras, pressure sensitive floors, mechs. The drell was clearly paranoid, and expensive paranoia of that magnitude only further underlined that the man must have something of value to keep safe. So wrapped up was he in his private ruminations and planning that he utterly failed to notice the looks that Susan shot his way.

She, for her part, watched him think over there, wondering what it was he was thinking so hard about and didn't quite dare to assume that it was her behavior that had him glowering so. They'd known what might be called for, hadn't they? Guilt assailed her, what if he thought less of her now? Did it seem that her affections were so easily given? A pang of fear hit her low in the guts as she thought of Marcus looking at her with disdain, or disgust even. She didn't think she could bear it if he did.

She bit her lip as she thought of him distancing himself from her, putting her in the same category as that other conniving seductress. Maybe she should have found another way, another path that didn't force her into so compromising a situation. She felt false, and dirty. The thoughts chased one another around her head, convincing her that Marcus did indeed equate what she was doing now with what Aleia had done to him then. Really, there was little difference.

He came out of his reverie to catch a pained expression flitter across Susan's face, her eyes were far away, probably dwelling in some mental landscape like his had been doing a mere moment ago and he reached out to tap her knee, feeling unease at how distant she seemed, "Susan, is something wrong?"

She started guiltily and that made him frown, as he watched her eyes dart to and fro, anywhere but at him, their pupils blown slightly. He recalled something about how psycho-reactive drell venom was and worried that it could be affecting her, they'd swapped quite a bit of spit after all. For all he knew, she might even now be hallucinating, but she seemed altogether too_ present_ for that, so he found stillness as he observed her rapidly changing expressions, too swift for him to follow.

The caring in his voice nearly undid her, but she pushed it away, far away into the recesses of her mind and finally forced herself to look at him, where he waited patiently, still and silent as a statue. "I'm, uh, just nervous about tonight."

Why did that seem like almost a lie? Marcus thought, puzzled. No, whatever was bothering her, she clearly didn't want to share it yet. So he didn't push her and instead said, "I think I have an idea on how to get into the complex below the house."

Grateful for the distraction from her spiraling thoughts, she concentrated on what he was saying, despite how difficult it seemed to be to focus. She caught herself looking at his facial plates, fascinated by the faint patterns under the semi matte natural finish on them, how they joined near seamlessly to the skin between them, how thin the skin around where his mandibles joined under his cheekbone was to allow the flexibility to flare and flick them in the thousands of complex and subtle expressions turian faces were capable of.

Utterly absorbed, she hadn't realized she was stroking them until his hand came up to gently capture hers, then her face burned with chagrin, but his, just a scant few inches from hers, was...amused? Curious how that seemed to inflame her embarrassment further and she said, with sudden realization, "...Drell venom."

He chuckled and she laughed, which made a spark of welcome warmth shoot through him. The sound was pure and it was all Susan and he leaned back into the seat as he watched her regain control of herself, "Guess we're going to have to find a solution for that before tonight."

"We can get some antivenin in the city. Stupid of me to not think of it sooner. A shot before we go back should negate the effects for hours." She colored under her makeup, reminded suddenly of what she planned to do. Lull him into pliancy, then knock him out so they could do what they'd come to do.

"Is it easy to find?"

"Any clinic that regularly services asari will have it."

"Really?" His browplates lifted in question.

She bit her lip, which prompted that urge in Marcus again, to reach out and prevent her from damaging that curiously soft, yet strangely intriguing, feature of her face. Only by sheer will did he stop himself from doing so. He'd never really wondered about those lips before, wondered how they felt, if they would feel hot on his skin. He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. It was strange to find her strangeness compelling. It hadn't been her alien-ness that drew him to her cabin night after night, not an interest in something other than 'normal' sex. His...need hadn't been born of desire, but of desperation and it seemed...not right to reduce her to an object of lust now. Somewhere in him, he felt a disquiet at this, like it wasn't quite right, either and puzzled it over as Susan said, "As...um, xeno-sexual as asari are, we've found that keeping stocked up on various...things that help accommodate is, shall we say, prudent."

"Oh? Like what?" He couldn't help himself. She seemed so embarrassed over there now, her hands couldn't decide if they wanted to be at her sides or in her lap. Teasing her seemed like the thing to do.

"Ah, um, antivenin, of course, prophylactics and various meds for bad reactions, even rebreather masks for underwater...happenings." She blushed under her makeup, wondering if the repeated burning in her cheeks would eventually bake and crack the thin blue veneer on her flesh.

"Hm. Underwater...happenings, huh? Who's that for?" He prodded, as though he didn't already know.

She mumbled something and he cocked his head.

"Sorry?"

"The-the hanar, okay?" She said, almost too loudly, shooting him an annoyed glare, only to have her brows draw further down as she finally took in his humor filled eyes and slight smirk. She sputtered, "Oh, you are just-how can you even-?"

She mimed punching him and he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender, "Too easy. I couldn't help myself."

Susan huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, he wondered if he flipped his visor's thermals on, if her cheeks would be aglow with heat. He was willing to bet they were and laughed again, before the pair subsided into a comfortable silence. Then, because his natural curiosity sometimes won out over his better judgement, he asked, "The hanar...have you ever-?"

"No!" Her answer came out with real anger tinging it and he lifted his brows in surprise, not expecting so vehement a denial. Susan hugged herself tighter and glowered at a spot over his left shoulder, continuing in a voice that was tense with some inner turmoil, with an accusation at its heart, "I don't just fuck everything in sight."

_Where did that come from?_ Thrown, he could only stare at her until his mind finally took back control of his tongue, "I never said that you do."

_You don't have to, _replied the flick of her eyes to his, but they skittered away just as quickly, as if afraid of something. Susan turned her face from him then and the silence was no longer comfortable. Marcus had the impression that a great many wrong conclusions were being reached inside that be-tentacled head and he leaned toward her, "Susan, talk to me. What's this about? Really?"

After another long moment, she sagged with a great sigh, her voice soft as it left her in a defeated tone, "I can't really blame you. The asari haven't exactly done anything to change the galaxy's opinion of them in matters of...carnal appetite. Mostly, they just say, 'let's just wait a couple hundred years and no one will remember that embarrassing thing we did during our maiden days'. And it's not like I've acted any different."

"What does that have to do with me?" He said, without really thinking about it, but it slowly dawned on him. His thought from before, when Susan and Makryth had been otherwise engaged, came back to haunt him and he shook his head angrily, "No, Susan, I have never, ever thought that of you. Not when Paulus was alive and certainly not now."

Her face remained averted and he could smell saltwater, her voice drifted to him, its tone bitter, "How can you not? Having to watch me deceive and seduce Makryth must bring back so many happy memories, ri-"

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him out of her seat, anything, just to shut her up, to quiet the awful thing she was implying and he made her face turn to him with one long talon, rumbling in a commanding, but gentle tone, "Susan, look at me."

Tears rolled down her face but she did as he asked, cracking her eyes open to peer at him, but the rest of her hung limply in his arms. She tried to harden her heart against what would surely be disgust at her weakness in his face and whimpered when she saw only acceptance, understanding and sadness in his bright blue eyes and she shook as he spoke, his words ringing with quiet sincerity, "You are not Aleia. You are not trying to steal your way into his heart, only his bed. How can I think less of you when you can be so brave?"

_Brave, me? _She shook her head as a sob escaped her throat and he crushed her to his chestguard. She let her hands circle his waist and leaned into him, relishing the comfort he was trying to bring her. They sat like that, him on the edge of his seat and her kneeling between his legs, clutching at each other for a long while. Marcus' breath hitched in her aural canals and he whispered, "I wish..."

There was a long moment as she held her breath for more and when none seemed forthcoming, she goaded, "You wish...?"

He sighed, pulling back from her and looking down at her wistfully, "Too many things to count. That I was better at...this. Stronger. That things were different. Mostly, I wish it had been me. It should have been me."

A jolt ran through her, he was talking about Paulus and how with those few soft words, she saw his guilt laid bare. The shame in him over his mistakes and she shook her head as she captured his face in her hands, "It shouldn't have been either of you."

_It's not your fault, _she wanted to say but knew that he wouldn't hear it. Marcus breathed in a harsh breath, as though he had heard her silent assertion, "It was my fault. Aleia tortured us and killed him because she wanted something from me, something I gave her part of just before the end. I was so weak and blind, so stupid."

"Marcus..." She looked at his drawn and weary face, trying to remember how it had looked before all this, when Paulus had been alive and all had been right with the galaxy. Well, as right as it ever was. "They had been on the move for as long as we've been alive. What they were after, they would have gotten one way or another."

"You say that like I don't know it. But should I rationalize my brother's death as just a casualty of a war that was long coming? I was there, Susan. I felt his brains splash on me, saw the gun in Aleia's hand. Aleia, the woman I loved and who I thought loved me, killed my brother." He dropped his forehead onto her shoulder and keened, a soulful sound that broke her heart, and he continued, "_I_ let her into my crew, _I_ let her get close enough to kill us. It's my fault. Paulus would be alive if I had just been paying attention."

"Marcus-" Her soft admonition went unheard as he barreled on.

"My negligence killed him, as surely as Aleia's pistol. And that, that is unforgivable." He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that held not a single mote of mirth, "And you know what the worst part is, the really horrible part? There are times when I still miss her, when I wake and hurt because she's not there, and because of what she did to me. What kind of monster am I for still loving her?"

That last was so quiet that she barely heard it and a feeling roared up inside her, deep and terrible. How wrong it all was. That this man could believe that it was wrong to love, that others had shown him that it could be so. She tasted bile. He was no monster. Not for loving.

With that realization came a shocking wave of shame. It couldn't be conscienced, he had to know of her own culpability. She acted.

She reached up and pulled his face off her shoulder and rested her forehead against his, wondering at the sudden violent shudder that ran through him. His mandibles quaked under her palms. And she took advantage of his silence, hoping he would finally hear her. Her eyes closed as she spoke, "You aren't the only one who is at fault. I should have done something, said something when I saw Aleia about to betray you, but I let my fear of her stop me. You say I'm brave, but when it counted most, I was a coward."

She couldn't possibly know what this meant, he shivered as wave after wave of warm feeling rolled through him, seeming to emanate from where their foreheads touched. He was robbed of words, he was being overwhelmed and a part of him wanted to thrust her away, because this thing that should mean devotion between those bonded for life could be nothing but a lie between them, but it felt so good to feel something again, something almost like love, other than rage and bitterness. He gulped in a breath as he listened to her speak of her own sins and tried to still the painful thudding in his chest.

"If you're at fault for letting Aleia trick you, then I must be damned to the seven hells for not stopping her when I saw what she was doing. I am so very sorry, Marcus." Those last words left her in a soft staccato and she leaned back, scooting back to sit on her seat opposite of him, not looking at him for fear of what she would see.

He resisted the urge to snatch her back and reclaim the contact that still had his heart racing under his armor and he drew a shaking breath. He thought about what she'd said and found himself almost instantly forgiving her. She couldn't have known what would happen, how could she have? She'd no more actual control over those events than he d-. The thought stopped with a screeching halt. He struggled with it, grappling the invisible giant that represented his failure. Forgive her? Yes, wholeheartedly. Forgive himself? He couldn't possibly-.

Disturbed, he quieted those thoughts, running a shaking hand over his fringe. This hate, this burning need for vengeance was the only thing he lived for, the only reason he didn't just lay down and die. It seemed such a large part of him now, how could he exorcise it? Impossible. Just...impossible. Did he even want to? What sort of life could he possible try to rebuild after this? The future was occluded, he could see the bright line of his life stopping at the death of Aleia. He had nothing to offer past that. Or did he?

Susan sat over there, holding herself in misery while he wrestled with uncertainty. She'd known he wouldn't blame her, though she wished he would. If only to share the burden of the pain. With a resigned sigh, Marcus caught her attention with a tilt of his head, his eyes piercing her with their focused regard as they always did, he said, "What happened was not your fault. You couldn't have known what would happen."

He tried not to let himself hear the words that needed to be spoken to her, the one most deserved, or the truth in them, but it seemed a small part of them leaked through and brushed against his battered spirit, infecting him with a feeling that was so foreign that he barely recognized it. Hope, how long since he'd felt it? Another gift she'd given him, unwittingly.

He contemplated it for a long time, letting his body follow her out into the city, playing his role perfectly while inside he seethed with thoughts he'd never allowed himself to think before.


	20. Chapter 20

Makryth excused himself with a bow, and her gaze followed him until he was out of sight before she languidly rose, keeping her movements deliberately casual for the cameras she knew were trained on her. She figured she only had a few moments to do what needed to be done before her host came back. He didn't seem like a man who'd let a stranger, no matter how attractive, wander about his house in his absence. She glided on silent slippered feet to the large windows, seeming to gaze out of them dreamily, not an intelligent thought in her head that was apparent on her face, just the same vapid smile.

Susan sipped her cocktail and reached forward, unclasping the window latches and flinging them open with a careless push of her hand. She leaned on the sill and let the nightwind wash over her skin, not all of her appreciation for the sensation feigned. It did feel good, even through the syntex body paint that covered her whole body, not just her face and hands like usual. No, for this ruse, she was probably going to have to bare herself to this man.

Her thin, revealing outfit hugged her body like a second skin and she reached down to touch the jewel set at her navel. Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention back outside, where she saw a shadow creeping along the walls, climbing them with skill toward where she stood framed in the window.

Warm hands came around from behind her, touching and fondling as Makryth's sandy voice whispered in her ear, "Sorry for the interruption, my dear. One of the projects is proving to be most uncooperative and needed my attention. It won't happen again."

Susan arched her back as his hands found her breasts, kneading them through the cloth of her dress. She let herself moan as she wantonly pressed her backside to his crotch, and she turned in his arms to face him, nuzzling along the broad chest that was exposed by his unbuttoned collar, "I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me."

He chuckled and used his deft fingers to undo the fastenings on the back of her dress, baring her back all the way down to her rear, which he cupped in his palms, squeezing with obvious enjoyment. She leaned away briefly to let her clothing drop to the floor and posed coquettishly for him, smiling at his very stunned expression at her boldness. She reached out and slowly unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, letting her fingers glide along the muscles of his abdomen, ever downward, until she hooked them in the waistband of his loose trousers, looking up at him with a wicked smile as she slid them down past his narrow hips, revealing the very pointed evidence of his arousal.

At her touch, he arched into her hand with a cry and he leaned back on a desk to help support himself as she worked him from root to tip, keeping her rhythm maddeningly slow. She slid down and circled the tip of his member with her tongue, letting it dance along the alien bumps and ridges, tasted the tartness of his precum on her buds and was glad that she'd taken the shot. It had the same sort of tanginess that his saliva had, only more concentrated. This was going to be hard enough without losing her head to visions and the druggy high of his venom.

His hands found their way onto her head and she could tell that he wanted to push her down to take more of him in her mouth, but she kept teasing him, sucking on just the tip, licking the underside to make it twitch, stroking his testicles where they hung between his thighs. Finally, he growled and lifted her off her knees, turning them both so that she was the one on the desk, flat on her back as he plunged two fingers into her barely moist channel. A breath left her in a whoosh as his teeth found her nipple, savaging them a little too hard for her liking. Thankfully, he slid down her body, licking and nipping as he went and she closed her eyes as his tongue found her moistening core, her body responding despite her protests to keep a clear head.

Makryth was obviously experienced and she flushed as pleasure shot through her, making her cheeks burn. She squeezed him between her thighs and his hands came up to force her legs to open wide, and she bit her knuckle as her hips rolled helplessly toward his questing tongue. A strange feeling flashed through her and her eyes popped open to see Marcus, clinging to the high ceiling above them, his head turned to look at her in question.

Her sudden pause drew Makryth's attention and he seemed about to lift his head to see what was the matter, and Susan moaned loudly, one of her hands pushing down on the drell's head as the other flicked to indicate where the elevator down was. She'd seen it on the way in, and doubtless it was where Makryth had disappeared to while she was making sure Marcus had a way past the sensor riddled defenses. From there it should be simple for him to get what they'd come for, a quick grab for intel, then they'd both be off planet before anyone was the wiser. She only had to do this, get past this one thing and slip off after injecting him with the sleep hypo in her clutch. Just a quick, quiet job.

Susan moaned again, entirely unfeigned this time as the cunning drell found a particularly sweet spot and her eyes narrowed to slits as she tried to ride above the wave of ecstasy that threatened to steal her wits. The shape on the ceiling hadn't moved. Why wasn't he moving toward the objective? The situation was fast growing untenable as a climax loomed. Her back arched on the desk, her shoulders grinding down into the cool surface, her eyes locked onto the impossibly blue ones peering down at her. She burned with desire, not for the one between her legs, but for him and it was impossible to look away from his piercing stare and unreadable expression. The wave broke over her and her cries crescendoed into a long, reverberating, "Aaaah!"

The sight was undeniably erotic and his lower plates shifted against his will, his cock throbbing in time with his rapidly beating heart. His tight, matte black light armor became tighter still and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the pressure against his groin. And yet he couldn't tear his gaze away from her lust ridden green eyes as they fixated on him with naked desire. Or her ripe body that glistened with sweat as she writhed below him. He resisted the urge to grind himself into the ceiling and finally, she blinked and looked away from him.

Whatever paralysis had seemed to affect him was broken and he found himself able to move again, stealthily creeping away from the pair, his mind screaming at him for leaving her so undefended before an enemy. But he knew she was far from defenseless and there was still a job to be done.

A shadow passed before her closed eyes and she opened them to see Makryth's face looming over her, a self satisfied smirk on his soft lips, "So I can make her sing, can I?"

She twisted her lips into a smile of her own before reaching between them to tug on his manhood, planting a frenzied kiss on his panting mouth. Then it was her turn to gasp as he speared her in one rough motion, his saliva and her natural moisture easing his passage. He nuzzled the juncture at her neck and shoulder as he mumbled words praising her beauty, and how good she felt. All she could think about was how wrong he felt, his skin too smooth, his member the wrong shape and she grimaced, knowing he couldn't see her face as he thrust convulsively in and out of her. She burned with humiliation that Marcus had watched them and she forced pleasure filled moans past the lump in her throat, the prickle of tears at the corners of her tightly clenched eyes.

Makryth said something, a quiet moan in her ears that she couldn't make out past the slap of their flesh colliding and she gasped out a question, "What, lover?"

"Join with me. Show me the soul of you, the god-touched core that gives your voice such flight." He thrust harder, if that was even possible and she cried out in more pain than pleasure under the onslaught, his fingers gripping her breasts bruisingly tight. "The flesh is nothing. The spirit is everything. Meld with me."

Susan felt terror, true terror. At the heart of her plan, she'd never anticipated melding with this man. It had not even occurred to her. Mind to mind, it would be impossible to hide her purposes, he would see her deception for what it was. More than that, her very soul shrieked denial. It was anathema, she didn't want to go anywhere near this evil man's mind. Her voice was ripped from her as she said, "No."

"No?" His thrusts slowed as he looked down at her quizzically. Just then, an alarm went up, loud and blaring and she heard shouts from outside. He looked up with a snarl on his face, then down again with fury tracing deep lines in his blue/green face, "Who are you?"

Her hands started moving in a mimetic when they were gripped in one of his large hands and his other swept across her face in a ringing slap, scattering her concentration, the energy gathering around her dispersing with it. He pinned her hands to her sides with his legs as he moved to straddle her, immobilizing her with his larger mass. Susan struggled to no avail, her legs flopping uselessly off the edge of the desk. She tasted blood from a split lip and snarled up at him wordlessly.

"Who are you!?" He yelled in her face, slapping her resoundingly a couple more times when she stayed silent.

"Fuck you!" She spat and blows rained down on her then until her ears were left ringing and she was dazed, spots swimming before her eyes.

He hissed, "You already tried that, Elayna. You failed and whoever you sent downstairs will fail and I will have the high priestess rip the truth from your mind and then when you're broken, I'll give you to the men to use like the whore you are."

She howled in rage, and tried to bite him wherever she could reach, screaming expletives until his hands wrapped around her throat and cut off her air. Overwhelming desperation filled her then as her vision started to turn black around the edges and she glared up at him through slitted eyes and with a strength born of fear and hate, she wrenched her arms free from where they were trapped and clapped them to either side of his face and yanked him to within a few inches of her own. In shock, his hold loosened enough to allow her to cough out hoarsely, "You wanted to see the real me? I'll show you. Embrace...eternity!"

* * *

He let Ushal figure out the passcodes while he waited patiently in the small box that descended however far into who knew what. His sniper rifle rested easily in the crook of his arm, the orb that was the geth loosely held in one hand. Ushal was interfacing wirelessly and had the codes sorted in a few breaths, and a message popped up on Marcus' visor, '_Security measures in the system turned off. Alert. Internal sensors indicate large presence of heat signatures at bottom of the elevator shaft.'_

"Warm bodies, huh? Some kind of final checkpoint?" Marcus sighed, it was never easy. He hoped Susan was able to incapacitate the master of the house or keep him otherwise occupied. He flushed as he thought of what that entailed and shocked himself with a small growl from deep in his chest. Where did that come from? "Estimate?"

'_Four or five.'_

_"_I thought you said 'large' presence." He said, lightheartedly, readying a flashbang and a pistol. He climbed the wall with his climbing pitons and wondered at how he seemed to find himself in this unlikely position more and more often. He clipped himself to the ceiling and activated his cloak, just as the door opened. He hoped curiosity would draw the soldiers into an apparently empty elevator before the cloak fell away. He heard muffled conversation and luck was with him three of the men stepped gingerly into the elevator, looking all around, even up, he saw approvingly, but his cloak held and he extended both arms until the barrel of his weapons were only a hair away from their skulls and fired, tossing a grenade into the room before taking out the last guy with a round from his rifle.

The flashbang went off, dazzling even through his tightly shut eyelids and he dropped with a practiced twist, rolling out into the shadows of the room, picking off the last two men he could see with well aimed shots. Ushal flashed an all clear before commenting, '_Efficient, as always.'_

Marcus snorted a laugh and that's when the alarm sounded, making him drop into a wary crouch, "I thought you said all the security measures were down."

'_There is a section that isn't on the grid. It's shut off from the entire network. I didn't think whoever was inside would be aware of what was happening out here.'_

He fought to keep up with the rapidly blinking text, but sorted its meaning regardless. He ran through the corridor, "Well, hopefully, Susan has the situation upstairs well in hand-"

_'Where she was engaged in coitus with-"_

_"Yes, _I know the plan." He interrupted, a bit too sharply even to his own ears and then he huffed, "Chances are, what we're looking for is in the sealed off area. Where is it?"

A three dimensional arrow appeared on his visor, pointing south and down and he set off at a brutal pace. Time was running out, but then it was always running out. Soon he found himself in front of a steel door and he could tell from gently knocking on it that it must be at least a foot thick. There was a control panel to one side of it and he set the geth's orb upon it before turning to guard the direction they'd come from. He didn't hear any pursuit as of yet, but that didn't mean that there weren't reinforcements on the way. His visor blinked, '_Coitus is such an odd thing. Organics spend so much time doing it or pursuing the means to acquire it. It seems grossly inefficient.'__  
_

"Don't you have better things to do right now? Like opening that door?" He growled, not really wanting to think of her limbs glistening as they entwined with that other. Heat flushed the back of his neck and he shifted uneasily.

'_I am. The blocks are rudimentary at best, but it will take a few minutes to get them to align without the physical key.' _Marcus supposed it was too late to sneak back upstairs and rifle through the drell's clothes which surely still littered the floor under the window. With that came a flash of seeing her spread out below him, her impossibly flexible body arching up at him. He shivered and banished the image. '_I am more than capable of multitasking.'_

_"_Great..." He groaned as another question popped up on his visor.

'_Marcus, why do organics engage in such activity? Logic dictates that it must be something beyond procreation, because the asari don't even need to engage in coitus to procreate.' _

"I'm not going to have the 'talk' with you. Don't you look things up on the extranet?"

'_Hardly a scientific analysis of the phenomenon.' _He could almost hear the geth sniffing in disdain.

"It's not like I've really done any research in this field. Why ask me?"

'_I trust your opinion. You are not as subject to being overwhelmed by your biology as most organics. You use logic and calculate the odds of success during our missions extremely well. I have ever found your decisions thought provoking and incisive.'_

"Uh, thanks."

'_For an organic.'  
_

"Thanks." He wondered if sarcasm was lost on the machine.

The geth continued, '_Enlightenment would be appreciated and would broaden our understanding of organics. So why engage in an act as...messy as coitus?'_

In the face of honest curiosity, what could he do? Talk of pleasure given and received? Talk of endorphins and pheromones and sweat and lust and the pounding of the heart and the rushing tidal wave of feelings? Or of the awareness of being present in the now. No past or future, just two beings striving for a moment of...And there it was, something that could be told, an answer of sorts, "Because we're alone. In our minds and bodies, we are alone. We'll never know what it's like to be another person, think another person's thoughts, breathe that other person's...essence as if it was our own. But there's a moment, just the tiniest moment between one second and the next, when two people can almost be one. And that's what we all want, we want..."

'_Connection...' _The geth was silent for a time and Marcus wondered if that door was ever going to open, then Ushal wrote, '_I understand. The geth take for granted the connection organics can never have. Thank you, Marcus.'_

_"_You're welcome."

'_Do you think Susan is connecting with that drell upstairs?'_

Marcus winced and shook his head, then felt chagrin as he realized Ushal couldn't see it and he laughed a short bitter laugh, "No, Ushal, sometimes it's just about sex."

Like a godsend the damned door finally swung open and Marcus snatched up the orb as he squeezed through into a lab. It was definitely a lab, he'd seen plenty and this one had all the hallmarks of one. Expensive equipment with lots of scopes and little robot hands and everything was just so damned clean. He wondered if the cleanliness hid horrors, he bet it did. This lab was actually quite small, there was only this main room and two others he could see. Ushal pinged his visor, '_Access would be better achieved in proximity to that active console over there.'_

_"_Do you need me to plug you in?" He'd brought supplies for that, a cradle, some cabling.

'_No need, just stay within three meters. Accessing.' _

"I thought I felt a disturbance in the wave." A female voice called to him, stern and forbidding and he spun to see that matriarch from the reception, all those days ago, looking tall and sinister in her black and red robes. There was a shambling figure behind her, thin and pale, a female human with red, red hair, the color of fresh blood, even more drastically colored against her ashen skin. The asari sneered at him and said, "You're that little Matron's pet. What did she call you? Cornelius?"

"Octavius."

"Probably a lie."

"Oh, definitely." He swung his rifle up to pin her where she was, but she seemed less than intimidated. That was probably a bad sign and he started planning a series of attacks based on what he'd observed about matriarch's powers. The human stumbled toward him and now he could see her face clearly. Both eyes were sown shut, and crusty around the wounds, her mouth was similarly sealed with a gag and he could hear whimpers behind it, he pointed his pistol at her warily and snarled at the matriarch, "Speaking of pets, what have you done to yours?"

"You like my acolyte? I picked her because of her hair, because she reminded me of the Shepard. Is she not beautiful?"

"Maybe, before you sewed her spirits-damned eyes shut. Is mutilation part of your god's decree now?"

Light began to flicker around the asari's hands and the slim digits began to move in a mimetic. Marcus threw himself to the side just as a shockwave rolled toward him, and just as he lost track of the other person in the room, a heavy weight slammed into his back, making him stumble under the kicking, clawing, human wretch that clung to him with surprising strength. The matriarch laughed, "I did this to her? Perhaps you should ask Serena why she did it to herself. That is the power of faith. The flesh is weak, but the spirit is strong!"

He rolled to dislodge his burden and frankly ran for it, the human shambling after him like a spider on all fours. Ushal blinked a warning, '_Do not move away from the console. Data transfer incomplete.'_

_"_What do you expect me to do, Ushal? Let her claw at me while her blue friend slams me with biotics? Just finish the damn data mine as I make passes."

"Oh, you brought a geth. How fun, how...fortuitous." The asari chuckled as she gathered more power. He recognized the mimetic, he'd seen Susan do it many times and rolled away from the singularity before it was fully formed, kicking away Serena to give him more space. He fired a burst at the human, blinking in surprise as the woman flickered, dodging his bullets.

"Shit, not again." He dropped his pistol and pulled out his knife, spinning to block the many blows of skinny arms coming from what seemed like every angle, uncannily precise, muttering, "How the fuck does she see without eyes?"

"Oh she can see. She can see better than most. She sees the leaden weight of you in the wave."

What the hell did that mean? Sounded like some mystical mumbo jumbo to him. He filed the words away for now and just concentrated on defeating these enemies. A biotic lift slammed him into the ceiling and he managed to turn his fall into a less than graceful backward tumble, coming up on his knees, he brought his rifle up to fire at the asari. The shot was deafeningly loud in the small room and the matriarch clutched her abdomen with a scream. He cursed his poor aim, he could have taken her out with one shot, but now she'd most definitely be on her guard against another.

Of the two, he focused on getting rid of the matriarch. She didn't move nearly as fast and so he ran and dodged and dived for all he was worth, as he overheated his rifle time and again on the asari's biotic shield and slashed at the human when she got within range. He collected quite a few wounds himself and was tiring quickly, his acrobatic leaps taking their toll in blood. Finally, he pierced the asari's shield with all three shots and as they flickered and died, he leapt in and struck out with his knife, burying it to the hilt in the woman's throat. The matriarch gurgled as she looked at him disbelievingly before slowly crumpling at his feet.

A shriek, wordless and deafening, hit him like a physical blow and he went to his knees but managed to turn to peer behind him. The female, Serena, had torn her gag free and was screaming as she rent her face with her fingernails in mindless grief. He gagged as the sound pounded at him, he felt liquid trickle down his neck from his aural canals and his vision was slowly being eaten at the edges by blue flames. He curled on himself on the ground to try to escape the awful sound.

Sudden silence and he uncurled enough to look around. The human was silent, mouth working with no sound coming out and he watched her hand come up and feel the orange point of the omniblade that had pierced her through and through, right through the heart surely and Serena slid forward off the faintly sizzling blade, revealing Susan behind her, face battered and bloody but resolute, strangely grim. Her omniblade folded upon itself with a soft sound and she held a hand down to him.

Stunned, he took it and let her help him up and he leaned on her for support. He eyed her tentacles, which moved around her face like serpents, restless and anxious. Ushal pinged him, '_I have downloaded what I believe are all the pertinent files. There is far too much in here for me to store it all in my databanks.'_

"We got it." Marcus said, in the silence, wincing at the sound of his hoarse voice. He must have been screaming, too. Susan swallowed and nodded in understanding, her profile steadfastly forward, leading him back to the elevator. He didn't like the cuts and bruises all over her countenance, something must have gone wrong up there, but she was here, alive, so that led him to only one conclusion, "Makryth is dead?"

"Dead enough." She said, grimly. Her eyes looked haunted for just a second before hardening.

His browplates shot up at the cryptic response, but didn't push. He trusted her to tell him eventually, "Good."

In the elevator, he sagged in relief and punched his suit for the last dose of medigel, sighing as it took effect, shaking the last cobwebs out of his head. He checked his rifle for damage and grunted when it looked alright, "Thank the spirits for small favors. Ushal, send a message to the ship to come get us at the edge of Makryth's estate."

"His guards were searching the mansion when I left to come down here." Said Susan softly. "What set off the alarm?"

"That matriarch, I think. None of the others had a chance to." Marcus sighed and turned to look at her closed off expression. He put his arm around her and lifted her chin in his talons, turning her face this way and that to inspect the damage. He hissed, the whole left side was swollen and discolored, broken cheekbone probably. He gently wiped away a rivulet of blood that threatened to drip into her eyes, those jade green orbs that watched him sharply. "What hap-?"

She cut him off, her lips pressed in a grim line, "Don't ask. Just...please, hold me."

He engulfed her in an embrace, not too tight in case she had other injuries. He was feeling pretty fragile himself and pressed his mouthplates to her temple, rumbling a croon. He looked at the elevator's control panel, estimating twenty seconds before the doors opened. There could be anything waiting out there for them, "Is the window still open?"

She nodded against his neck. "Going to have to run for it."

"We're too high up to jump. And I'll need my hands free to climb down. Here." Marcus turned and knelt, "Climb on my back."

She did as he asked, wrapping her legs around his middle. He handed her up his rifle and she gripped the edge of his cowl in one hand. Marcus grunted as he resettled her weight so it was more evenly distributed and said, "Ready?"

"Let's do it."

The doors opened and he leapt out, sprinting past a surprised group of guards just entering the room. He heard the rifle's sharp report and cries of dismay as they tried to return fire and missed his dodging figure. The room with the window was just ahead. Susan clung to his back deftly, moving with him as he swung around sharp turns, leaning just enough to help.

He flung the door to Makryth's private study open and there was the man himself, sprawled dead across his desk, his face contorted in the most horrifying rictus of terror. Marcus paused but then dashed forward, there was no time for questions, "Hold tight, Susan!"

He threw himself out of the window, twisting to the side to grab at pitons he knew were there and his memory didn't fail him as his hands closed around their firm protuberances. His arms were nearly jolted from their sockets as his mass, with the added burden of Susan, plummeted toward the planet, halted only by his deathgrip on those slim pieces of metal. Closing his eyes to better remember, he started to move, swinging from one piton to another like a primate, skipping some to expedite their passage to the ground. The rifle went off more times that he could recall, so focused was he that an exact number escaped him. All he knew was he heard cries of pain from above, and the whine of the rifle overheating in his ear from time to time.

He nearly lost his grip as a shot pounded into him, right in the hip but he grunted and kept moving, he could feel the skin of his palms being abraded and he grimaced as blood started to coat his hands, and he said warningly, "Susan-"

"Drop." She said in his ear.

And so he did, trusting her to know what she was doing. Nevertheless, they were still thirteen meters off the ground and he twisted them midair so that if the worst should come to pass, at least her fall would be broken by his body. Blue light blossomed under them and he felt her thighs tighten on his midriff as they plunged into the singularity, making him gasp as he drifted almost serenely. Then the light was dispelled and he hit the ground with a soft whoosh and scrambled back up and pushed his flagging reserves into another sprint.

A high leap over the fence and they were headed out into the dark, unknown wilderness.


	21. Chapter 21

_They were yowling, screaming, tearing at each other_ _as they were flung deep into the maelstrom. She'd torn him from his body viciously and now they battled in her psyche, but she had the upper hand in this place for it was hers and she knew its landscape and she hammered at him with all the force she held within her, feeling her monster rise up and howl in triumph as the other was brutally smashed time and time again until the other was only a bloodied wreck that weakly pushed at her, whimpering in agony as it whispered, "What are you?"_

_She showed him, all the things they had done, all the injustices they had committed in that woman's name, what folly, what hubris to think that these horrors they had done could ever be condoned by any deity and the being before her quailed, crying out in his desperation not to see, but she was not merciful. She delved into his mind and tore away all barriers, all illusions and he gibbered madly in the tortured abyss. _

_And then something started to happen, something that made the whole imagined world shake and warp. She cried out in terror of her own as thoughts that weren't her own, memories that weren't hers rose up and tried to drown her._

_He was six and watched as the last of the herdbeasts was slaughtered and he was given a scrap of meat to suck on, to try to claim its moisture for his dying body. Three weeks later, his mother opened her own veins to do the same, to nourish her dying children on their dying world._

_He was ten and beginning to feel that familiar anger as the men take his sister, barely older than himself, to the women's tent, to breed the next generation of dying children. His hands clench so hard that they bleed from where his nails puncture them. He licks the blood off carefully, so that there is no waste. Waste is blasphemy._

_The priests tell the youth that there is a divine plan, but he sees no plan, he sees only desolation and despair, he knows that there are other places in the galaxy where others have plenty and his have none. He's lead as best he can, but he's far too young and it's not enough, it's never enough and he hates his kin out there in the black night sky, he hates that they never came back for the rest._

_Offworlders? No, invaders. He watches the giant nautiluses land and raze the one oasis left in this hemisphere and he feels nothing but tired resignation, this is the end, at last, an end. He sees other ships fall from the skies to try to battle the colossi, but one by one they fall in the dust and secretly, he rejoices. Let them know helplessness._

_The green light took the invaders, all but one and he watches it move in the wreckage like a ghost. Perhaps it was a ghost, one that possessed that dessicated machine body and makes it move about in imitation of life. It does not run or attack when he approaches, and he leans on his spear in curiosity, staring it down, or trying to for it stares back with its uncanny glowing green eyes. The standoff shatters when the thing decides to approach him and he tenses, ready to strike. Can a machine look sorrowful? This one manages it somehow and he grunts a question._

_It gestures behind itself and he reluctantly follows it into the blasted remains of one of the offworlder's ships. It shows him a nearly intact shuttle and his heart starts to pound in his chest. Here is hope given to the hopeless, but how to fly the thing? The machine seems to understand and shows him a set of buttons labeled, 'autopilot', what that means he has no idea but he starts when the machine places one hand on his head and says in a woman's voice that is clearly not coming from any earthly vocal cords, 'Save your people.' Perhaps there is a plan after all._

_A miracle. He takes as many as will come and abandons the ones who wish to stay, condemning them as fools, but it does not stop him from coming back every half decade or so to take more. He shows them wonders, and technology, all the things denied him in his youth and all the while he searches, for that thing that saved him, for that spark of divine grace that led him from the desert. He finds it in a woman named Miranda._

_And he also finds waste, unending, unendurable waste. War, disease, laziness, faithlessness. Miranda can work wonders with her brilliant mind, but she is blind to the awful waste. That must be amended._

_In rabid confusion, she looks for the other to cast him back into his body and finds nothing separate, it's all a part of her now and she screams in panic. She never meant this, and her mind nearly shatters as the other's soul and memories align almost too neatly with her own, becoming just as much hers as the ones she knew had actually belonged to her. The monster is quiet, as if it too reviled her and this thing she did. Abomination. _

_She is in her mother's arms, feeling loved and safe, glowing with the approval in that gentle smile, not knowing yet that she was her tutor's only student and she was being graded on a curve of one. And all her playmates are there to teach her as well, not a friend among them, but that is a lesson too._

_He is looking at his mother's corpse, not daring to let the tears fall because she had fought so hard to gift him with precious water._

_She wins her freedom from her mother's machinations, but finds not answers about herself, but more questions._

_He finds comrades who believe as he does, that the galaxy was saved by a divine being that used Shepard as its avatar. Its earthly representative._

_The monster is real, it's there, in the back of her mind all the time. She tries not to think on it too much, lest it wake. Terror drives her to heavy stim use, but then she finds part of what was missing in his blue eyes. And the need to hide abates for now._

_He is not wrong. No, he is not right. Ingrained ideologies clash and splinter and she reaches out with all her might and subsumes the thoughts of a man who is only an echo now, crying out as she silences him for now, because he is her. She is him and she couldn't hate him any more than she hates herself. He had been just a man, flawed, he'd done as many good things as he'd done evil and she'd...taken everything from him, ripped it away. Far worse than any evil he could have done. What am I? She screamed, **WHAT AM I?!**-_

-Wrenched out of her memory, she sat bolt upright out of a dead sleep, feeling her tentacles wave and wriggle as she fought to hold back a scream. Her eyes opened at a light touch on her knee and Marcus was there, carefully assessing her with his concerned cerulean stare. Susan turned her head to take in their unfamiliar surroundings. They sat in the lee of a boulder, sand blowing past them from the dunes, from the position of the sun, she knew it had to be nearing midday and soon their meager shelter would disappear. She spoke, voice hoarse from the dry atmosphere, "Ship?"

"Ushal says as soon as they disengaged from the dock without authorization, they were flagged as hostile. They had to run for it."

"Did they make it?"

"I think so. Or Ushal thinks so, there's still chatter on the comms about the chase. Apparently, Errol can pilot as well as he can cook." He favored her a lopsided grin, which sobered quickly as he took in her grim countenance. It was so un-Susan-like that alarms jangled inside his head.

"Did they follow us out here?"

"A few patrols have popped up on my visor, but they haven't come close enough to be a worry." He sat next to her against the rock and leaned his head back, "Why couldn't Makryth have put his house in the middle of a city? That would have been much more convenient."

Again, his sad attempt at humor failed to register even a twitch of the lips on Susan's face and she remained silent. He wanted to jostle her, maybe poke her just to get some kind of reaction, even if it was that fiery burst of anger he knew she was capable of. Abruptly she stood and started walking out into the sandy wastes.

Marcus frowned as he scrambled to follow, "Susan, where are you going?"

"We need to find water." She called back over her shoulder. "There's an oasis to the south."

"We should wait til night."

"I'm already dehydrated and it's a long way away."

He caught up to her and slowed his longlegged stride to match her steady pace, noting how she walked differently so her feet didn't sink into the sand too deeply and adjusted his own footing to match. She flashed him a thin lipped smile of approval and he spoke, "How do you know about the oasis?"

Her face froze, "I just do."

So cold, like he was a stranger and he stopped in his tracks under the blazing sun, feeling even more hot pounding against his all black attire. Eventually, she saw he wasn't following and turned with a questioning glance, "Explain this to me, Susan. I'm not simple. Something has changed. Something happened."

She regarded him silently for a long time, her stare too calculating, though he thought he saw a glimmer of the warm Susan he knew under its cold light and she sighed, the tentacles on her head twitching with the sound, "I'll make a bargain with you. We walk, we don't talk, because more water vapor escapes in that simple act than you would believe and when we get to the oasis, which will take us well into the night, then I'll...I'll try."

Now it was his turn to be silent, a long stretch that soon had her glowering at him pointedly. Finally, he nodded and started moving. He could wait for his answers, he'd waited longer for others. Two people walked the dunes, casting shadows that grew longer as the day waned.

She saw that he was hardier than she'd thought he'd be, the heat didn't affect him as strongly as it did her and she lamented the sweat that seemed to pour from her pores. She tore off a strip of cloth from her dress and mopped her brow, sucking on the sodden cloth to reclaim the water her weak and fleshy body seemed far too eager to lose. Weak? She snapped out of a chain of thought that wasn't hers and cursed silently. It seemed without a mind of his own, Makryth insisted on using hers.

She watched him as they moved and awe filled her at how at home he seemed here, recalling that wilderness survival wasn't exactly new to Marcus, but he moved like a hunter, never more than what was called for, never less than fully alert to every sound, every smell, his sharp eyes trying to pick up meaning in the smallest of details. The other in her hummed approval. There was indeed no waste to the man, even his weapon of choice bespoke utter confidence in every shot.

Strange, she was used to seeing Marcus from her perspective, but the addition of another had her reassessing even those opinions. What a leader he would make, if he would only see. A part of her saw the good he could do, the other saw how such natural ability could be turned to fulfill the manifest destiny of the cosmos and she bludgeoned that thought back with a mental fist. Manifest destiny, no such thing. Destiny is just another word for slavery. Slavery to a future one has no conscious control over._ Control is an illusion_, said the one inside. Choice is not, she replied tartly, without choice we are nothing. _But choice is so often wasted..._

She refused to listen to a specter of a man who worked far too diligently to take choice away from his people and showed that ghost her disgust at his actions. Actions he could no longer justify blindly and the spirit faded back into the shadows with a last parting shot as to the ramifications of her own choices and she shivered. She knew what she did, she owned it along with the responsibility. How to explain it to Marcus, now there was the rub.

* * *

He smelled water on the wind long before he actually saw it and his body's sharp reminder that he needed it was a pain he endured stoically as they circled the water hole cautiously, on the lookout for enemy soldiers looking for them. Susan appeared to be suffering far more than he, her limbs shook ever so slightly, the paint on her skin peeling away in thin strips. It was disturbing to see, like she was slowly being mummified and it was her actual skin drying and flittering off with every breeze.

Finally, they moved into the oasis with its scrubby trees and low bushes. And there, at the center, was a pool of clear blue water and Susan dipped her head in an odd reverent gesture before walking into it, clothes on and all. Marcus watched her wade out into the depths until just her head was above water. And still, she made no move to drink, only scrubbed at her skin, presumably to clean the paint off. He puzzled it over as he stripped out of his armor, folding it neatly near his weapon. He followed her in up to his hips then sat so that he was also up to his chin in the water.

He had to admit that it was refreshing and took some in his mouth to gulp down, pausing as Susan reprimanded him sharply, "Not too fast. Or you'll be waterlogged. Let your body hydrate through its pores and just sip."

"Didn't know you were such an expert on desert survival."

_"I_'m not."

"Then how-?"

"Do you think you could scrub my back? I can't reach it and I itch something awful sweating in this paint all day." She threw the wadded up bundle that was her dress out onto the sand, having stripped while submerged.

"Ah, sure." Marcus shifted to let her sit between his long legs. He peeled the larger flecks off with his talons and discarded them with a flick of his hand. He looked at the patchwork quilt of her back, some of it blue, some of it turquoise and realized he had nothing to scrub with, "What do I use..?"

"Sand from the bottom is fine, might be awhile before we have soap again, if ever." She said, peering up at this planet's two moons and sighed as he abraded her skin lightly with the soft sand. Susan hugged her knees to her chest and thought about where to begin,knowing that he was waiting for his explanation and she owed him one, no matter how difficult. "Last night, I...did something, something really bad. When the alarms went off, he knew something was wrong and we struggled. He had me pinned and I couldn't get any biotics off. But underneath the fear, I felt..so angry and it lent me strength, but instead of pushing him off after freeing my arms, I did...something else."

"What?" He coaxed softly, sliding a little closer to her. She looked so solemn, what he could see of her profile, more deadly serious than he'd ever seen her. And tears glimmered at the edge of her eyes but didn't fall.

"I...tore him out of himself and forced him into the meld..." Her chin dipped down and rested the tops of her knees, "I meant to show him...what he was doing, at least I think that was what I was thinking at the time. If I had known..."

"And it killed him?" He said, browplates lifting as he leaned forward to look at her from around her shoulder, tilting his head to better see her face. A flash of some emotion flittered through her eyes and he waited for her to say more.

Her eyelids lowered over tired green eyes and she said, her voice very small, "He's not dead."

"But I saw the body..." He pondered what she could mean and what he'd seen and heard earlier and a thought tickled at his senses, something that was... disturbing to say the least, but he had to hear her say it.

She kept her eyes shut as she whispered, "I never put him back. He's in here...with me."

Only when she shuddered did he realize that he was pressed to her back, but he did not pull away. Something in him, something that was pure instinct, told him that to draw back now would be a terrible mistake, costly and ultimately dangerous. So he did the only thing he could think of and wrapped her in an embrace, long arms coming around to clasp opposite shoulders. She felt almost brittle under his hands and he wondered if that was fact or perception of her confused state of mind. He said, "That's how you knew about the oasis."

"I know because he knew. All his memories, his...spirit..." She sounded horrified and it showed in her face as a slight grimace, the skin around her eyes tight. She tried to pull away and he didn't let her, holding her closer. She had to know that no matter what she did, he accepted it. He accepted her.

"Can't you kick him out? Send him to his own afterlife." He rumbled, gratified when she finally relaxed and leaned into him.

"I...absorbed him, he's part of me now. I don't know how it happened. But he is me, and I am him."

Marcus shivered and ran his hands along her arms in a soothing motion and forced a light tone into his voice, "You're not about to start spouting the doctrine, are you? Don't think Jack and the rest will like it much if you defect."

She smiled and he saw a spark of the old Susan in it and felt immeasurably reassured, "And if I did, would you come with me?"

He played along because he knew she wasn't serious, "Yeah, sure. Don't ask me to become a true believer though."

"No room for gods in the universe? It's a big place." She cajoled and laughed as he shrugged, an action that because he was holding her, made her seem to shrug as well.

"The geth say there are no gods. As for me...All knowing, all powerful, omnipresent beings that determine the fate of everyone and everything? I don't buy it. Sounds like an easy way to shift blame around to me. The crop is failing, I wasn't pious enough. The people from the other village have destroyed ours, we must have done something to piss god off. Too little rain, too much rain and it suddenly becomes easy to blame the sinner down the street. His iniquity doomed us all!" He waved his arms dramatically, trying to bring a smile to her face and was rather pleased with himself when it did.

"Hmm. It'd be nice, though, to think that someone's looking out for us."

"If they're there, they're doing a crap job." He reached around and plucked a piece of paint off her nose, laughing when her eyes tried to cross to see what he was doing. She echoed him and he took advantage of her distraction to spin her in his arms and pull her close, "Susan, you are you, don't ever doubt it. No ghost in your brain will ever change that. Don't let it change you."

"But what if-?" Susan gasped as she was pressed to his body, straddling him in a way that to her seemed suddenly very intimate.

"The choices are still the same, the burden of responsibility is still the same and I don't see you ever condoning torture and cruelty, not my Susan. Not in a million years." He stared down into her dazed eyes, watching them warm in the face of his faith. All the broken promises, the harshness of the universe, the evils he'd seen and done, if there was one thing, one person, he could have faith in, it was her. And the strength of her heart.

She could only echo, her heart pounding, "...Your Susan?"

That sobered him, why had he said that? He knew she felt for him and it would be wrong to pretend to return those feelings, but how much of it was really pretense any more? He was confused himself as he looked down into her solemn face, watched the moonlight shard into many different tones of blue and green as it struck her skin, a complex variety of color, as complex as the woman it adorned, strikingly unique. All he knew was that this moment of peace and reflection was precious, despite the fact that they were marooned on a hostile planet. He snorted internally, marooned...again. But he had her with him this time and for her, he'd find a way to get them free of this cage.

She looked up into his face, seeing in it a sense of peace that she only ever glimpsed when he was asleep and it filled her with awe. Her guts flipped as his hands came up to cradle her face, his words coming out of him in a deep rumble that she more felt than heard, "Susan, you are beautiful and courageous. I wish...I wish I still had a heart to give you. You deserve so much more than I could ever give. Whatever is left in me that can feel, it is yours. For however long you need me, I am here."

He wasn't prepared for the sudden hot press of lips to his mouth and moaned loudly as her legs squeezed his waist in a way that was hopelessly arousing. And moaned again as her tongue deftly maneuvered between his sharp teeth and tangled with his tongue. From baseline, desire rushed up and up to a previously unknown zenith and he was suddenly hard and ready, his cock throbbing from where it was mashed between their bellies. Far different from a thing borne from the need to alleviate desperation, he found deep parts of himself moving in the wake of this consuming passion, changing, rising, falling, flowing.

The desire in his face made her gasp in answering lust, her loins quivering in need where they rubbed along his length and she ground against him helplessly, hands busy at his fringe. Her heart was pounding fit to bursting and she nibbled all along his jaw and neck, tasting every part of him she could reach, the luscious scent of him driving her wild. She froze as she lifted herself to slide onto him and felt him freeze too, both eyeing each other uncertainly. In unison, they whispered, "We don't have to-"

Susan laughed softly and Marcus' mandibles flared in humor and she said, lips brushing the base of his cowl where it came together at his sternum, "I mean, if you don't want to..."

His hands, warm, callused, tenderly stroked the back of her neck, sending hot and cold shivers down her spine in delightful waves and he whispered, pulling back to run his tongue along her bruised lips gently, "I want to. I really, really want to."

Such sweet simple joy filled her that it made her ache and she sunk onto him with a barely audible sigh, wrapping her legs more fully around his waist as he crossed his under him. It felt so natural that she laid her forehead on his and they sat like that for a long long moment, both with eyes closed as they relished the nearness of the other. Then they began to rock together, in the shallows of that pond, slow and tender.

She clung to him as he lifted her time and time again, only to pull her back down to meet his thrusts, feeling how her internal muscles twitched and pulled around his cock in the most delicious friction imaginable. The other times hadn't been like this. Need had arisen, and need had been answered, never more than that. But this, this was something new. He found himself responding to her cries of arousal, watching her face flush, the way her hands fluttered like birds, trying to touch all of him at once and heat roared through him, making him pick up the pace, making him want to give her pleasure. She was so beautiful to him then as her eyes, halflidded and senseless with passion, found his and she called his name during her completion. His own was soon to follow and with a muffled roar, he pumped once, twice and felt his essence leave him in a rush and his body sagged with sudden weariness but he wouldn't move for the world. Let it last, this feeling of connection, flowing free as the wind between them, their bodies pulled together as close as two people can be and still be within their own skins.

Susan, dazed but fulfilled, wrapped her arms around him, feeling the whipcord strength of him under her palms, hearing him sigh under her touch was a marvel.

She shivered, now that her body had cooled down, the desert night's brisk air was chilling her and she pulled her forehead away from his reluctantly, "I suppose we should get out and dry off."

"...I suppose." He sounded reluctant as well and playfully snatched her back to him, making her laugh and he winced at the strangely uncomfortable clenching feeling, "Whoa, I'm still...inside."

"Uh, sorry." She said, her cheeks burning and felt him slide from her with a popping sensation, his member retreating back into his carapace. Then he stood, lifting her easily and set her on her feet on the bank, the sand clinging to her wet heels. He stepped out after her and stretched languidly, letting the breeze dry him, yawning hugely. Susan picked up her discarded dress, grimacing at the sand that clung to it in clumps and rinsed as much dirt as she could off of it before laying it over a bush to dry, "Should have brought a change."

"Wear this." Marcus tossed her the top of his light armor and put on the pants, "It's not much more than a black shirt with some padding anyway, even the medigel dispenser is empty now."

She pulled it on and felt how its strange proportions fit on her, long enough to cover her to mid-thigh, tight in the waist and arms, extremely baggy in the shoulders and chest and the cowl settled unevenly so that one of her shoulders peeked out of the neck. Judging from the twitching of Marcus' mandibles, she must look pretty ridiculous and she bunched the extra material of the sleeves around her wrists, "Well, at least it'll keep the sand out of...uncomfortable places."

She cleared a place at the base of one of the taller trees, in hopes that it would shelter them from the sun once it rose and lay down on her side, leaving the area directly behind her open in patent invitation. Marcus rummaged around in his pack and pulled out Ushal, "Ushal, wake us up if any hostiles show up in the area."

He turned the curve of his visor in his hand so he could read the geth's response and nodded in satisfaction, setting both the orb and the visor near where Susan was already drowsing before sliding in behind her, pulling her close with a contented rumble and despite every intention to stay awake, he found it impossible to do so and darkness, peaceful darkness swept in and took him away with it.


	22. Chapter 22

The heat was back, in force and even filtered through the trees, he could feel the sun's menacing glower and shifted restlessly. His hand reached out and his eyes popped open when he realized Susan wasn't next to him. He shot up into a crouch and looked around anxiously, breathing a relieved sigh when he spotted her sitting at the water's edge, only to stiffen as he realized she wasn't alone. There was a familiar shaggy white mound seated next to her. And they seemed to be conversing, too low for him to make out the words.

Cautiously, he approached, but he couldn't deny a surge of eagerness to greet his long absent friend and Caesar stopped mid sentence and rumbled a low laugh, "He is awake, finally."

Susan turned to him, her smile dazzling and he returned it, a bit weakly, then tilted his head to Caesar in a question. She mouthed, _Safe._ Then she shrugged, and mouthed again, _Enough._ Safe enough, he decided it must be true.

Caesar turned his golden eyes on Marcus and said, "_Sa'diqi,_ you have grown incautious. This one has stomped about your camp for half an hour, while you slept as the dead sleep."

Marcus coughed in abashment, but met the creature's gaze unflinchingly, "Maybe you should have just shouted my name, or shaken me if you wanted to wake me."

"You looked like you were having a most pleasant dream. One does not disturb so rare a thing." It could be his imagination, but Marcus could swear that Caesar's tone of voice was teasing, further corroborated by the mirthful twinkle in his eyes. "So long we have not seen each other and you have no words of greeting for this one? I am hurt by the lack of courtesy."

Susan laughed as Marcus frowned, arms crossing stubbornly, the turian grudgingly saying, "Then have a hello, along with a goodbye."

Caesar grinned with a mouth full of sharp teeth, "I'll take the first, which is late in coming, but it is far too soon for the second. You can hold onto it until it is needed."

Susan interrupted what was surely going to be an undignified tirade on his part and said, "Caesar was just telling me about some of your adventures before Omega."

"Oh?" Marcus turned a harsh but inquisitive eye on the furry alien.

Caesar stood and stretched, arms reaching toward the sky, "Such pleasant discourse will have to wait. It is not why I am here."

That stilled any hard words that might have burst from him then and he felt a touch of dread, a feeling of cruel reality crowding in and taking away the peace of last night and he asked, somberly, "Then why are you here?"

"There is one whose time grows short. The dogs are fast on his heels and he worries for the little ones in his care. They will take him soon, take them all soon if we do not go to him." The tall being reached down and picked up a curious weapon and Marcus nearly laughed aloud as he realized he was looking at something that ought to be in a museum somewhere, for on no modern battlefield could a _halberd_ be of any use. Rings jangled on the blade's blunt edge, while the sharp edge gleamed in the sun.

"How are we going to get there?" Susan said, standing with the two men, dwarfed by them. She handed Marcus his shirt, having changed back into the dress. The turian shot her a grateful look as he kitted up, straps and buckles falling neatly into place under his deft touch.

"Furthermore, what exactly are we going to do if there's a fight? We have one rifle and a knife and how you expect to get close enough to use that big bastard without getting shot, I have no idea." Marcus said, but he was already feeling the pre-battle buzz. "And none of us have armor."

"Then do not get hit." Grinned the beastman devilishly and Marcus started as a huge hand dropped onto his shoulder and he looked up into those lambent eyes, "I have waited long for this day, to fight beside you as an equal. I think it will be...fun."

"Fun?" He echoed weakly as Caesar reached out a hand and the world dissolved into whiteness, cold and bleak. Vertigo assailed him in that nothingness, and he felt that just out of perception, something very strange and uncanny was happening to his physical self. Forces were being exerted on him, huge incomprehensible forces that mixed his senses up until he saw sound and tasted color. An enormous overload of conflicting messages that his body was desperately sending him, inquiring what was the nature of this emergency, what measures to be taken and he, nonplussed, was struck dumb, his normally quick and decisive mind shutting down in the face of it.

And then they were somewhere else and he was on his knees, puking up the content's of his stomach, which wasn't much more than a few splashes of water and when the convulsions ceased, he said angrily, "You mean to tell me you could have gotten me off that planet at any time?"

"This one begs forgiveness, but it was not my desire to be used as the instrument of your vengeance." The creature stated baldly. "I'd have left long before doing something so...unworthy."

Marcus realized the truth of it. If he'd known what Caesar was, what he could do, he'd have demanded to be taken to wherever Aleia was, whether the _taa'ih_ knew or not, he'd have wanted to scour every planet, every ship until he found her, killed her and offed himself. Question was, what did he want now? Justice, and then what? Unbeknownst to his higher brain functions, his eyes tracked Susan where she stepped away to peer out into the unfamiliar terrain.

Susan looked around as the men bickered. That they were on a new world was apparent. Everything was different, even the color of the sun, a wan orange light that washed over a hillside littered with ruins, crumbling walls and ancient streets. They had appeared in the middle of one of the structures. She wondered who they were, the people who lived here. Her mother would probably know. A feeling came over her, some impending event and she sliced her arm through the air, immediately catching the men's attention and she turned her head to look at them, "Something's coming."

A dropship roared past over their heads and all three dropped into a ready crouch as they watched it hover over a particular set of buildings. The sides opened and a dozen soldiers leapt out, landing not fifty feet from where they were. The ship flew away. The troops milled about for a moment as if unsure of where to go, when three of them were caught in a biotic slam that lifted them and dropped them with brutal force. Yelling and cursing, those soldiers stood on wobbly legs and the whole squad ran toward the source.

Susan's heart beat madly as she recognized the distinct greenish purple aura that glimmered around the mass effect field and she gasped, "Javik."

"Wait." Marcus' voice called quietly, just in time to prevent her from leaping over the low wall and running into the fray. She turned a questioning eye on him and saw his eyes flicker to many different points in the ruins. "Susan, take Caesar and go right, flank them, but stay out of sight. I'll go left and up, onto those walls. Wait til I have their attention before hitting them with everything you got."

The other two nodded and he spun without further ado and loped to the street corner before jumping up onto a piece of wall and climbing with nimble grace. He ran along its top and pulled out his rifle, his blood singing with anticipation. They hadn't spotted him moving above them yet as they assaulted the small group of rooms that the biotic attacks were coming from, bullets ringing off stone, countered by the light of some particle weapon that lanced out and struck no few soldiers, but not enough to stop their advance.

Susan could just see him, crouched above the enemy, aiming carefully and begged him to hurry silently. Some must have gotten in and she heard the high pitched cries of children and her blood turned to ice in panic. Her sisters, her _sisters_ were in there with Javik. She bit her knuckles to quell the mad urge to run out there screaming in rage. Caesar squeezed her shoulder in concern and understanding and she shot him a grateful look and turned back just in time to see Marcus' opening salvo. Three men dropped in an instant and every other soldier she could see turned to look up at him in surprise. Time seemed to slow for her as all their weapons raised in unison to shoot this interloper and he somersaulted easily back into cover as they chased him futilely with bullets.

Baring her teeth in a snarl, she threw everything she had, marvelling at the endless well of energy she seemed to have found in herself. Maybe her rage had given her this boost or perhaps the addition of Makryth had something to do with it, but shockwave after shockwave left her hands. And huge, glowing singularities floated, traps to trap the unwary. Caesar was no longer at her side and she watched out of the corner of her eye as he flickered out there, as Kala had flickered, jumping from one man to another, sweeping them to the ground with that great blade of his, an insane grin on his face. Shots, precise and deadly, rang out and dropped the ones who eluded her until none were left to stand against them.

Marcus leaped down to join them and Caesar clapped him heartily on the back with a sharp bark of a laugh, his grin transitioning into a frown as he swiped a thumb along a cut on the turian's cheek, Marcus realized he must have been winged in that first exchange, and the creature licked the blood off his thumb, "I said to _not_ get hit."

Marcus grunted, "Not all of us can teleport around the place."

A voice called from inside, deep and so achingly familiar that it made her spin, "Susan?"

"Javik." Arms encased in that deeply crimson armor he always favored reached out from inside the dark room and yanked her into a hard embrace. Smaller bodies plastered themselves to her sides and she felt tears gather at the corners of her eyes, but they just wouldn't fall, "Oh, goddess, I've found you."

Marcus shifted to his other hip as he turned away from the reunion, feeling like an intruder, his eyes landing on the one child that did not participate. A human child, with dark, dark hair and haughty green eyes that put him in mind of someone, but he just couldn't place who. Her gaze was sharp and unflinching as it met his from across the room and he saw a strong will there and smiled in friendly fashion. The child smiled back, almost smirking.

"-this is Marcus, Javik. Marcus Va-" His attention was drawn back to Susan as she made introductions.

"Vakarian. I remember." The prothean said, eyeing him with eyes even haughtier than those of that strange human child. Though they peered out from a face that was deeply lined from exhaustion. A bone deep weariness from which it was apparent the man was barely able to stand, let alone fight. But stand he did, from sheer will alone and he turned to Caesar.

And bowed. Susan was shocked, to say the least. To see the proud man bend was...the only word that came to her mind was shocking. Caesar spoke in a rumble, "Deference is wasted on this one. I am not one worthy of such."

Javik snorted and straightened, turning back to Susan, "Since you come with him, I will not ask how you come to be here at this hour. The windwalkers' ways are ever shrouded in secrecy. Enough that you came just in time. Have you a ship?"

"Uh, no." She colored under his stare, and turned to the_ taa'ih, _"Caesar?"

"I can not take so many." Caesar said, teeth flashing in a apologetic smile and Susan felt her sisters shrink closer to her side, looking at the furry alien with eyes round as saucers.

"I have an idea how we can get one." Marcus said, gesturing at the bodies at their feet. "I just don't know if that dropship came from something as small as a destroyer, or if it came from something as large as a cruiser. A cruiser would be...problematic."

"Class A transports of that configuration are berthed on repurposed alliance frigates only. It would have to be the...Tripoli or the Bonaparte." Said that human child and every eye swung to her in surprise and she frowned, shrugging, "What? I'm a genius."

"Your arrogance is unbecoming." Javik said reprovingly and Susan couldn't help but snort a laugh and he whipped a questioning glare her way.

"I just...you saying she's...nevermind." She schooled her face into a semblance of seriousness as she turned to look at Marcus pointedly, still hugging her sisters to her. They still seemed so small, barely prepubescent and they looked up at her with heartwrenching hope, all the more precious to her now that she had them back, and she said to the turian, "What's the plan?"

"These two seem the right size." He said, pointing at a pair of the dead troops, a turian and a human, "Give me a hand."

Once again clothed in the trappings of the enemy, he sighed and opened the comms, "Requesting extraction. Target acquired."

"Acknowledged. Stand by for pick up." Came the toneless reply, "Casualties?"

"All of our forces are down but two. The kids didn't make it."

"Sloppy, but they were expendable."

He snarled internally, expendable, he was beginning to hate that word. He forced his voice to remain neutral, "ETA?"

"We'll be there in ten. Did you find a human girl with him?"

"Yes, sir. She was among the casualties." Puzzled, he looked over at the human, who shrugged noncommittally.

"Prepare her body for transport as well. Over and out."

One of her sisters tugged at the borrowed uniform and she smiled, "Yes, Jadrika?"

"Suz, are you gonna take us home?" Susan winced as images of that shattered structure rose in her memory, blasted to oblivion.

"Jadrika." Said Javik sharply, "I told you. Home is gone."

Susan shot an angry glare his way, furious at his callousness and for once, she saw him start back, as though surprised. And she softened her gaze as she looked back down into two pairs of blue eyes, "No, we're going to take you somewhere safe until this is all over. Then we'll find a new home."

"Will mom be there?"

She closed her eyes so they wouldn't see the doubt that plagued her and said firmly, "Yes, we'll find mom and bring her home."

Marcus nudged her and gestured that they should get ready and Javik gently peeled the girls from her, herding them in the direction of the back rooms. He gave them a quick embrace, saying, "Be still and do not make a sound and do not come out until you hear me call the all clear."

Reluctantly they went, but it was clear from how quickly they moved to obey that there had been many such situations.

"I found these among the dead. I believe they were meant to tame him." Caesar handed him a set of shackles, the kind that shock a struggling prisoner into obedience and he in turn handed them to Javik.

Javik grunted as he turned them over in his hands, "I will not be restrained like an animal."

"It's only for the ruse. Look, they don't activate unless you hit this button." Marcus said. "Break the lock and you can unlatch them whenever you want to."

"This isn't going to work. Once you have the transport, how are you going to transmit the security codes to its mothership? You don't have them." The human girl said.

"That one is very young to be so jaded and cynical." Caesar smiled in humor, "What is your name, child?"

"Oh, someone finally cares that I'm here. Lovely. My name is Mira. Mira Lawson." Her eyes flashed, challenging them all.

"Miranda's daughter?" Susan shot an inquisitive look at Javik and the prothean nodded.

"Her mother sent her to me some years back. For tutoring in biotics, she said, but I think it was to keep her safe."

"Fat lot of good that did," sneered the young Lawson, "And so far, I'm not hearing a viable plan that'll help us out of this mess either."

"Well, Mira." Said Marcus, cocking his head at her, "This isn't our first dance. And we have an ace up our sleeve. Now, pretend to be dead."

That shut her up and she started as the first sound of an approaching craft hit their ears, the boom of a vehicle hitting atmo. Mira laid awkwardly on the ground and Caesar knelt down over her, reaching for a nearby corpse and filling his palm with a small amount of blood, which he smeared in places all over the girl's face and arms. He grinned into her shocked and disgusted face and said, "For authenticity."

Now the girl was still, in fright probably, thought Marcus and said as an aside to Caesar as he paused on his way to his own hiding spot, "Was that really necessary?"

A flash of a toothy smile and Caesar said, "Not really. I will make sure the enemy will only see a dead girl, even should they use their machines. The blood, well, call it an artistic touch. And smell is the hardest sense to fool."

Marcus suppressed a shiver, it was still uncanny, the mental powers of this being who called himself friend. Susan, in her own crimson armor, came to stand near him, Javik in shackles between them, head down as though truly cowed and defeated. He kept his weapon, a borrowed assault rifle, trained on the prothean as the transport hovered a few feet off the ground in front of them, not bothering to land. Its hatches opened and a figure within beckoned, swaying out with one hand on the door's handle.

The mass effect fields that kept it aloft buffeted them with wind as Marcus shoved Javik ahead of them and picked up the girl under one arm. Mira stayed obediently limp despite the undignified position. They all hopped into the dropship and Marcus scanned the small hold, there were only three, plus a pilot, who was hidden behind a partition in the back. He caught Susan's eye and nodded to the man saluting him, unceremoniously shoving the 'dead' girl into his arms.

"Whoa, Tarkas, careful with the goods. Boss'll kill us if we don't bring her in mostly intact." The man said, grinning with the mouth that was the only thing exposed in his halfmask and then the man straightened and finally took a very good look at him, peering into his own half helmet in puzzlement, "Wait, you're not Tarkas..."

"No, I'm not." Marcus drew with lightning fast speed, as the man fumbled with the burden in his arms, dropping the girl in his haste to pull a weapon. Time slowed and Marcus toed the now 'awake' child out of the way roughly as he opened fire, blasting the man before him in the face while nearly simultaneously reaching past him for the pilot, yanking his headset off so he couldn't alert any friends out there and pulling him to the back, where Javik, now free, held him in place. He glanced back to make sure the rest of the vehicle was secure and pulled out Ushal, who whirled gently in his orb, "Do I need to plug you in to this one?"

'_Yes. This is far more complex than a simple data mine. And I will need a voice print from that organic.' _The text lit up the inside of his helmet, much like the HUD on the visor in his pocket.

Marcus stalked toward the human pilot, whose eyes widened in fear, and thrust Ushal in his face, demanding in a stern voice, "Talk."

"What do you want me to say? Please I just fly, don't kill me. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else on this rock. I don't want to die. Please, pl-" The panic in his voice made Marcus frown, the man's cowardice was sickening. An alert on his visor told him that Ushal had enough of a sample and the turian sliced his hand through the air to stop the man's repetitive bleating. He turned to patch Ushal into the shuttle's systems.

Javik growled in the human's ear, his tone sadistically menacing, "Soldiers who chase children to ground, who strive to kill children, should know better than to expect mercy."

Susan watched the prothean squeeze the man's throat, seeing murderous intent in his four eyes. She reached out and put her hand on his arm, "Javik, that's enough."

Javik sputtered in rage, "Need I remind you that this man surely did not blink an eye when the turian told them that your sisters, _my daughters_ had been slaughtered?"

"He's helpless, and unarmed. Where's the honor in killing him?" She reasoned, "Jadrika and Meynoir are outside, they're alive and safe."

The prothean snorted but relaxed his hold, letting the man fall to the deck, heaving in great gasps of air, his eyes darting around for escape, but Susan tapped him meaningfully between the eyes with the barrel of her rifle and he stilled. She shook her head at him, lips pressed grimly in warning. Javik opened the hatch and let the others in, shouting the all clear in his strong bass. She glanced around for Mira and found her in the copilot seat, talking animatedly to Marcus. And she smiled at how taken aback he seemed at the rush of words that were pelting him at high velocity.

* * *

"That's a geth!" The tone was almost accusatory and Marcus swung his head around to see glinting green eyes set in a slightly frowning round bloody face not five inches away from him. He leaned away, frowning himself at her intrusion into his personal space. Her statement had the flavor of a question even though it came out as a exclamation, a demand, almost, for more information.

His frown deepened as the girl plopped into the seat next to him and he quirked a brow, "Yes?"

"I've never actually seen a geth. Why do you have it? Was it outside the cordon? Isn't Rannoch still occupied? Where-" There was a strange gleam in her eye, something like avarice.

He held his hand up to forestall the flood of words, his wire snips snapping through the air between them as though to cut her off and turned back to his work, "Yes, _he's _a geth. All other questions will have to wait til we're out of this situation. Or, better yet, when we're safe, ask him yourself, but be civil. He's my friend and I expect you to respect him."

Her brows shot up her forehead and just as quickly drew down into a scowl and he sighed, somehow knowing that she wasn't about to leave him alone. Her mouth opened, but any words she might have spoken were abruptly cut off by a loud voice over the comms, an oddly mechanical one, "I have the ship."

Marcus sighed in relief, "It's good to hear you again."

"It pleases me to hear that. Even though I was present, it is...nicer to be able to talk to all of you in this fashion." The shuttle lifted off abruptly and he heard some muffled cursing in the back as the deck pitched and yawed.

He turned his head to call back, "Everyone secure back there?"

Susan stood from strapping her sisters in and shifted easily with the roll of gravity and looked around, "Yes-wait, where's the prisoner?"

Javik sneered at her haughtily when she swung a look of accusation at him, "He was not needed any more. I kicked him out as we took off."

"Javik." She said angrily, looking out the port to see if she could spot him, but they'd already risen above the clouds and all view of the hillside was now obscured and she turned a frustrated frown on him.

"We were only ten meters up. He survived." He shrugged, unapologetic, "...Probably."

She muttered an oath and sat with a resigned sigh.

Caesar made a sound that was suspiciously like a laugh and Susan turned her face from the men and tried not to see the smirks they exchanged and allowed herself a small smile as she spotted Jadrika and Meynoir leaning against each other and sleeping. Only children could sleep at times like this and the thought pulled her gaze to the pair up front and she smiled wider as she caught how very uncomfortable Marcus was talking to the girl and decided to rescue him, "Mira, come back here and let Marcus work."

The human pouted, but reluctantly obeyed, though her eyes flashed rebelliously as she plopped into a seat furthest from the rest of them. Susan shook her head, finding the girl's pluck oddly endearing and walked herself up to the cockpit, sitting in the seat that Mira had so recently vacated.

"Thanks." Marcus whispered, shooting her a grateful look.

"You were looking a little overwhelmed."

He grunted assent and they sat in companionable silence for a time, broken when Marcus said, "Ushal has the codes, as well as the approved docking vectors. We should be able to get_ in_ with frightening ease."

"Hmm. I'm guessing from your tone that you don't expect this to be easy."

"Well, he also has the duty rosters for the crew. It's a full compliment, minus the seventeen they lost down there. About thirty men. Twenty soldiers and ten support. Chances are that they'll be able to send off a distress call before we can take their bridge."

Susan grimaced as this sunk in, "Ushal can't scramble their signal?"

The ship answered her, "It will take time to take over their systems. Emergency communications are usually on a separate set of protocols from the rest of the ship, in case of boarding by hostiles."

Javik popped his head in between them, "And I am feeling pretty hostile. What can be done to secure this vessel, machine?"

"The last prothean knows we stood with Shepard on Earth. This machine has a name." It was as close to angry as Marcus had ever heard Ushal sound, an odd edge to that toneless voice.

Susan was surprised to see actual chagrin on the prothean's face and the man flashed a crooked smile, "Apologies, Ushal was it? I spent many years fighting the machines. Old habits die hard."

"Apology accepted. We understand, but we are not the Reapers."

There was a pause before Marcus spoke once again, "Getting on the ship is easy, how to get control of it quickly before they have a chance to mount a decent defense, now that's the hard part. I suppose..."

"What?" Susan asked as Marcus' gaze shifted into the middle distance and a smile started to spread on his face, flaring his mandibles. She knew that look, an idea had just reared its head.

His blue eyes found hers and he rolled his head in a little arrogant toss, a move so intrinsically turian that she grinned herself, "We don't change a thing. Same plan."

"And you think they'll fall for it? Seems...kinda shaky." She said doubtfully but found herself almost immediately latching onto the plan.

"Does that mean I have to play dead again?" Groaned Mira from the back.

Marcus said, frowning, "Maybe. Where's the medbay on most alliance frigates?"

Mira said, "Deck three. Standard placement."

"And where's the brig?"

"Deck four. Why?" She popped her head into the increasingly smaller space, under Javik's arm and he pushed her back out with one three fingered hand on top of her head. She made an indignant sound, saying, "Hey!"

"What are we going to do with Rika and Mey? I doubt they can stay hidden on this shuttle." Javik said, worry entering his eyes.

Marcus hummed, stumped, but Caesar said in his deep rumble, "I can take them through the bowels of the ship, unseen."

"If we can take the bottom three levels of the ship quickly, then meet in CIC to take out its commanding officers, I think we can pull this off." Marcus said, then sobered as he spotted Mira in the back, hopping up and down to see around Javik's bulk, "But that puts Mira in the middle of what is more than likely going to be quite a messy firefight."

"I can handle myself!" She called, her voice jarringly loud and Javik shushed her, shooting a look to where the twins still slept soundly.

"Go sit!" Javik said sternly, jabbing a finger to the rear of the transport. The girl went sullenly, crossing her arms in defiance. When he'd ascertained that she'd indeed planted herself as ordered, the prothean leaned into the cockpit, a serious expression on his face, "She is capable, but lacks discipline and experience."

"Both of those can be fatal..." Marcus said, "We'd be doing her no favors if we get her shot in her first fight."

Susan had been watching the girl from her seat and underneath the petulance and snide attitude, she saw iron, she saw...potential and she spoke to her in soft but ringing tones, "You're what, seventeen?"

"Sixteen."

Susan exchanged a look with Marcus, who shrugged and said, "By her age, I was already several engagements in and just starting sniper school."

The asari swung back to Mira, "Can you follow orders? No questions asked?"

There was a growing eagerness in the young woman now and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "Yes."

"Good because if you stop to think, if you hesitate, you'll probably catch a bullet." She said it coldly, knowing that at her age the last thing Mira wanted was coddling. Susan nodded in satisfaction at the resolve that settled over those too young features and felt suddenly old, though there was only a decades difference between them. This oldness came from deep inside and jarred her with its rising presence and she closed her eyes to the alienness of it, forcing herself to turn back outward, where Marcus watched her with a touch of sadness and she spoke to him, "So what's the plan?"

Marcus turned to the ship's console and said, "Ushal, how's your acting?"


	23. Chapter 23

_'I have informed the frigate of the 'incident' aboard the dropship. Apparently, Javik broke free and killed three soldiers before he was once again contained. They 'bought' it.' _The words glowed almost smugly inside his helmet and he resisted snorting as he shifted the light burden of Mira up onto his shoulder. The cargo hold was small and thinly populated, he stepped onto its deck without a hint of hesitation, Susan at his side, escorting the slumped shouldered figure of Javik. He knew behind him, Caesar and the twins were already scuttling through the ducts and service tunnels that ran the breadth of the ship, having slipped out of the other hatch.

One of the mechanics that obviously worked in the bay leaned into the shuttle and called, "You need a hand, Tanner?"

Ushal, using his borrowed voice, cursed and the sound of a wrench falling and hitting the deck rang through the ship, Marcus wondered where the cunning geth had found such a sound file, but he shrugged, you could find anything on the extranet these days, "No, I got it. Console caught a stray round. Easy fix but it'll take me an hour."

Marcus knew that the mechanic only saw the feet of one of the corpses, whose upper body they'd shoved up under the console, giving the outward appearance of a man hard at work. A ruse that wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, but they only needed an hour. That was the outside estimate that Ushal had given him on how quickly he could take over the ship. But they couldn't dawdle, for it could only take half that and they had to be in position when it started.

Soldiers turned and cheered as they saw the prothean shamble between his captors. Marcus was glad that the focus wasn't on Susan or himself and strode briskly to the elevator, hand out to keep the doors from closing before Susan and Javik were in. He sighed after the doors closed and turned to the other two, "That's step one."

Susan pushed the controls for the decks above them and rolled back on her hip, her face completely hidden but she made a thoughtful noise and he could picture her lips pursing pensively, "Now for the hard bit right?"

Marcus nodded, "When you drop him off at the brig, meet me in CIC, I'll see if I can't rustle up some more supplies."

She nodded as the doors to deck four opened and the two soldiers flanking it turned alertly to watch her as she shoved the 'apostle' ahead of her into the corridor, voice commanding, "Move."

Javik played his part with a venomous glare as he stumbled, only to be caught by one of the enemy before he could fall completely. The red armored man said, "So the hunt was successful."

"Praise the Shepard." She said, glad they couldn't see the wry twist of her mouth in her mask. The elevator rumbled behind her as it moved laboriously upwards, taking Marcus to deck three. She wished him luck as she turned, "Boss wants him in the brig."

They escorted her to the ship's brig, a small room set fore of the starboard cargo bay and lines of light flickered into being as she shoved him inside, caging him in. He tested their effectiveness in true Javik style and pulled his hand away with a hiss, fingertips scorched. Susan turned to the two men, "Watch him. He's dangerous."

They saluted and stiffly stood to each side of the portal and Susan watched as Javik sat on the floor, legs crossed, his four eyes closing. He must be exhausted beyond belief to show even that amount of weakness, but Susan had no doubts that when the time came, he would be more than up to the job of securing deck four. She spun on her heel and headed back to the elevator.

* * *

Marcus stepped out onto deck three and took a quick glance around, not exactly sure where the medbay was, but his uncertainty was dispelled when he spotted a man dressed in a medical officer's uniform walk by, a cup of coffee carefully cradled in one hand while he studied a datapad, oblivious to the tall figure in his wake.

He followed the doctor at an easy pace, keeping his movements brisk and professional, exuding the air of one who had every right to be there. His mandible twitched in dry humor at how effective this old strategy was. Nobody questioned a man who walked around like he owned the place.

He stepped into the medbay behind the human and cleared his throat loudly. He was rewarded with the sight of the doctor starting in surprise, giving a little cry as he juggled coffee and datapad, his futile attempt to save them both resulting in both crashing to the ground. The man spun on him with a glare and a scowl, hands on his hips, "Fucking hell! What the hell do you want? Other than scaring me to death."

"I've got the girl's body. The one that was with the apostle." He gestured to the limp 'carcass' he was carrying on his shoulder and saw interest spark in the other's eyes.

"Set it over there on that cot." The doctor pointed to a gurney and grumbled as he picked up the fallen datapad, giving his spillt coffee a mournful glance. "I'll have to get a servomech to come clean that up. Alright, let's see what we got here."

Marcus stood back as the man came to inspect his prize and the turian sidled behind the medic silently. The human picked up her wrist and dropped it, "Huh, no sign of rigor mortis, strange... Skin's still warm."

He wondered if they were too far from Caesar's influence to mask the fact that she was very much alive, only to have his question answered when the doctor gasped and felt at her neck, "My god, she's still-huuueerrrkgh!"

With a deft motion, he had twisted the man's head around, snapping the vertebrae easily. The human dropped in a heap at his feet and Marcus' eyes met Mira's curiously bright ones from where she lay. He flexed his mandibles and said, "Have a nice nap?"

"Oh yeah, just wonderful. Being slung over someone's shoulder for the better part of an hour is, like, the most comfortable thing ever." Sarcasm dripped from her tone as Mira swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, looking down at the dead doctor with active interest, "That was amazing, the way you just broke his neck like that."

_Hardly, _Marcus snorted as he peered through the medbay's port hole into the galley, noting how many troops were out there, how many were armed and let himself smile as he found what he was looking for. Lockers, lots of lockers. How to get to them without being noticed, _hmmmm_. His attention was pulled away from the problem as he realized the girl had asked him a question and he turned to look at her, "Sorry?"

"I said, what are we doing now?" She looked a bit frustrated and crossed her arms at him and he sighed, lamenting silently that he was the one who got stuck with the brat.

"Well, we're going to stash the good doctor somewhere out of sight, then _I'm_ going to go out there and find some weapons and armor."

"Okay, then what'll I do?" She leaned forward eagerly.

"You're going to stay in here and play dead."

"Aaaawww, c'mon, I can help." She whined and stamped her foot.

He stared at her for a long moment, until she started fidgeting and said, turning his attention to the rest of the medbay, looking for a suitable stash spot, "You remind me of my brother. A lot."

"Thanks...I guess." She said, flatly, brows furrowed.

"Ha, don't thank me. You didn't know Inigo. He was the same sort of...rebellious, had no discipline to speak of." He furrowed his own brows, wondering why he said such things to her, personal, painful things.

"Was? Is he dead?"

"I don't know." He saw a flash of what might be sympathy in her eyes and restrained himself from growling. Marcus picked up the corpse at their feet and unceremoniously shoved it into a storage bin, breaking the mechanism that opened it so it would remain shut, no matter who tampered with it. "No, you have to lay there in case someone else shows up. They'll be expecting to see a corpse, so try to be as corpselike as possible."

"What if they scan me or something?"

"Why would they? They have a doctor who does all that." He shifted back on his hip and stared her down, until those defiant green eyes dropped away from his, "Follow orders, you'll get your chance to help."

She bit her lip but did as he asked, laying back down on the gurney and closing her eyes. He was just about to place his hand over the glowing green circle on the door when her voice drifted to him, "Marcus, you smell good."

Spirits save him from impetuous youth. Had he ever been that capricious? No, he decided, he never had. He'd been a serious child who'd grown into a serious adult. It had been Paulus who'd made him smile and laugh when he needed to. A pang fluttered in his chest. How he missed that big lummox.

He made his way out into the galley, pretending to look for sustenance as he cased all of deck three. He kept his manner unengaging, it was a small ship, someone here was bound to know the man whose armor he was wearing and awkward conversation was at the top of the list of things that would undoubtedly tip his hand. Luckily there was only a few off duty soldiers here. He sat in a corner by himself, pretending to sip the contents of the nutrient pouch in his hand and watched them avidly from behind the tinted visor that covered half his face.

The current group left and a new group came in and he watched a petite asari pause at the lockers, palming the lock on hers open as she spoke animatedly with a drell female. He craned his neck to look into the storage receptacle and was pleased to see armor and weapons in there. _Sotto voce_, he whispered into his comms, "Ushal, can you unlock all the lockers on Deck three?"

'_Done. Also, I am almost through the firewalls in engineering. From there, it should be simple to take the Command deck.' _Again, the smugness. Marcus wondered who had taught the geth arrogance or if the machine was simply evolving to reflect the traits of the organics he spent time around. Such philosophy could wait, so he let it go as he stood just as the small crowds dispersed in their migratory fashion, making his way nonchalantly to the lockers. He opened that asari's first, and found a bag in there as well, a welcome boon that he filled to the brim with everything he could find that was useful, plus that diminutive female's armor.

He stepped back into the medbay and a quick glance around told him that no one had entered since he left and he threw the bag down next to the girl, who sat up and fixed him with a glare. He ignored it and said, "Suit up."

She grinned as she pulled out the crimson armor with its black underarmor and glanced around for a place to change. He watched her color, her cheeks turning a brilliant red and she barked, "You just going to watch?"

Taken aback, he spun to face the wall, and heard cloth rustle behind him. Speaking into his comms, he said, "Ushal, how long?"

The speakers next to him crackled and said, "Nearly there. Five minutes at the most."

Anxiety was starting to eat at him. He'd never think to take a whole frigate, fully manned and armed, with only four people. Well, four people and a geth. A geth who was the lynchpin to the whole operation. He was so very glad to have Ushal with him, with his astounding usefulness. He'd trust the geth with his life, had done time and time again. Despite the danger, he felt a thrill at having a group of people at his back whose loyalties were beyond question. He'd never thought to feel like this again.

The only reservations he had were in the person that was with him, but that was more to her skill than her allegiances. Plus, she was where he could watch her, and keep her from doing anything...foolish.

He turned at a polite cough and saw that Mira had put the armor on competently at least, and seemed at ease holding her borrowed assault rifle. He nodded once, in approval before saying, "Here's how this is going to go down. We start at the elevators, they cannot get past us. Get me?"

She nodded, "Gotcha."

"You're a biotic? Do you know how to do a singularity?" He sighed as she shook her head no. He missed Susan and her uncanny abilities now more than ever. No doubt, she was already posted up upstairs, waiting for them to secure the rest of the ship.

Mira said, "Lift, slam, throw, barrier and overload. Javik was trying to teach me dark channel, but I never got the knack."

Marcus thought furiously, laying these abilities in his mind as things to use should the need arise, "We got this. We'll clear the smaller rooms first, then lock them behind us."

He led them out into the larger room, locking the medbay behind him surreptitiously. They walked past a group of offduty comrades, who were laughing and joking easily with each other, much as most soldiers do and it made a guilty pang wash through him. He stifled his emotions and reminded himself harshly that they were the enemy. They had the choice and they had chosen the wrong side.

The bathrooms and both observation decks were empty, but as he peeked inside the crew quarters, he saw that it was full of soldiers sleeping or playing cards. He sighed, it was never easy. And they were out of time, he realized as the lights overhead flickered and a voice boomed over the comms, **"I have the ship."**

Immediately, shouts of alarm went up and he threw four grenades into the crew cabin before locking it securely. He pulled out his assault rifle and laid into the few men and women who came streaming around the partition blocking the galley from the elevator. Too late, they tried to back pedal and were mowed down by the two people attacking them, either with bullets or the blue light of biotics. Methodically, they advanced, Mira keeping pace with him on the left as he moved forward on the right.

He ducked as his instincts screamed danger at him and a bullet went whizzing by his head to shatter on the steel walls, showering him in shrapnel, but it didn't get past his shields and he drew his sniper rifle, leaning out cautiously to take a head count of whoever remained to oppose them. They'd opened the lockers and he cursed as they armed themselves, he should've had Ushal lock those down tight and now as he watched a pile of munitions grow behind the overturned tables and benches they were using for cover, an idea popped into his head. He called to Mira, "Overload on that ammo dump, now!"

They must have heard him, because they were scrambling madly to get away just as the stack was lit up in blue. All those heatsinks, all that potential energy, along with whatever ordnance they'd scrounged up blossomed into a huge fireball behind their lines that caught the slow and unwary. The concussive blast of it nearly knocked him off his feet, left a negative image on the insides of his eyelids, but he flung himself out there in its wake, charging up the middle, jumping over the cover they were huddled behind and shooting them with deadly accuracy, Mira hard on his heels. They cleared the room in less than a minute.

Pleased, but disquieted, he turned to the human girl, "Good work, Mira. We'll check the forward battery then head up to command."

Deck three was secured and he ran to the elevators. The doors opened and a very gleeful prothean was there to greet them with a feral smirk, his armor painted here and there with copious amounts of blood. Javik said, with a sinister smile, "Deck four is secure."

Stepping in, Marcus punched the button for CIC. His comms sputtered and Susan's voice filled the air, "Where are you, Marcus? Things are getting pretty tight up here."

"Just secured Deck three. On our way now."

"Well, hurry it up. They're getting smarter. They're not just running at the end of my shotgun any more."

"Yes, dear." He said dryly, but inside his guts churned, anxious to be up there. _ Damn these slow contraptions, _he thought, pacing a bit. Maybe he should have switched roles with her. He'd known that the command deck was where the heaviest concentration of armed enemy soldiers were and she was alone up there. No, she could handle it until they got there. She had to.

"She can do it, boy. Calm yourself." Javik said, leaning against a wall, closing his eyes.

Marcus stilled himself, forcing himself to breathe even, measured breaths, "You're right, you're right. She's got plenty of crowd control."

Javik snorted a laugh, "If she is anything like her father, she has it well in hand."

"What do you mea-?" And then there was no more time for talking, just fighting. Susan, the cunning little asari, had posted herself in a hallway, using the doorframe to the comm room as cover. This had the added benefit of forcing the enemy to brave a long open corridor to try to get at her. Bodies littered the deck, or floated passively in huge glowing singularities.

She'd held her own and kept them from getting to the elevator, but now it was time to push and push they did, all the way out into the large command center of the ship. Now, things were at their most perilous. There was little to no cover out here and the enemy still outnumbered them three to one. Marcus found himself dodging and rolling as much as he was on his feet shooting, trying to give his shields enough time to recharge. The others were having the same trouble and he saw Mira go down and skidded to a stop next to her. She was dazed, but still alive. Good. He growled at her to stay down and crouched over her, Susan standing next to him, flinging biotics out with one hand while shooting with the other, her face alight with a fierce battle joy.

A joy that was answered from deep within him and he laughed, just feeling the recoil of his rifle, just living in the moment as they strove to be victorious over the defenders of this small piece of enemy territory. He was joined in his laughter by the people at his back, even as the threat of being overwhelmed loomed. A flash of white behind the commander of the frigate and he was cut off in mid shout, crumpling at the feet of a very large, very hairy being wielding a very large knife on the end of a pole. The _taa'ih_ was a most welcome sight, scything down their foes from their back ranks.

With his help, the odds swung back in their favor and the enemy was routed quickly. Breathing heavily, Marcus leaned on his sniper rifle and pulled Susan into his side. She also seemed just about to drop in exhaustion. Then, a huge furry arm came around his shoulders and they were both swept up into a crushing embrace. Marcus pounded the _taa'ih's_ back, somehow getting out through deflated lungs that he needed air and he was released, gasping in gulps of as much oxygen as he could suck in.

Susan yanked Javik into the hug as well, though he muttered oaths about primitives and their need to touch all the time and extricated himself as soon as the moment was gone, though a smile lingered around his eyes. He ruffled the human girl's hair affectionately before turning to the _taa'ih_, "My children?"

"Safe, sleeping in the room with the large window." The tall being dropped onto his haunches like the beast he resembled, tongue lolling in amusement.

Javik spun on his heel and headed back toward the elevator, every inch the concerned father now that the danger had passed for now. Susan watched him go with a smile playing around her lips.

"Where's your helmet?" Chided Marcus, dropping a hand to her shoulder.

She gestured vaguely, "Somewhere..."

"Tch. Good thing they didn't have a talented sniper on their end of the hallway." He wiped blood off her cheek, rumbling in amusement.

"I had shields. Besides, I hate full face helmets." Susan said with a half hearted growl. Then her mood brightened, "Hey, we took the ship."

"Holy shit, we did." Marcus said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he looked around, "Of course, now we have to clear away all these dead bodies."

Ushal spoke up from the comms, "If you put them on Deck five, I can space them from there."

"Our work is never done." Marcus sighed as he reached down to pick a couple up, wrinkling his nose at the stink of spent eezo and blood.

Susan used her biotics to move some of the corpses to the elevator and Mira helped, soon they had a line of gently bobbing bodies to push to the elevator. Caesar playfully batted at them until Marcus reprimanded him for his disrespect. The large creature merely shrugged and said, "There is nothing left of a person in there once the spirit is flown. What matter what happens to their shells?"

"Just...don't, okay. They used to be people, that's enough to treat their remains kindly." Marcus said, "Even enemies deserve consideration."

"This one will not argue the point, _Sa'diqi."_ Caesar bobbed his head in an odd gesture of concession. Working in teams, they cleared away all the bodies in an hour. Marcus watched them leave the ship in a burst of air and debris from port observation.

"Goddess keep them." Susan stood next to him and looked out as well, "Like ancient mariners buried at sea."

"Hn." Was all Marcus could think of as a response to that.

"CO Vakarian, what is our destination?" Said Ushal from where he was currently residing.

"I thought I told you not to call me that." He ground his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We have taken the ship. Who will lead if not you?"

"Not it!" Said Susan brightly, her voice a sing song.

"Not this one!" Caesar echoed from where he was rolling on the deck.

"I coul-" Mira said, but was interrupted by a resounding 'no!' from all parties. She pouted and crossed her arms, muttering, "Well, I could..."

All eyes were drawn to the prothean, who sat on the lounge with his daughters curled up against him. His eyes cracked open a hair and he pointed at Marcus, "As my friend, Kaiden, would say, 'it is all you, buddy'."

Marcus threw them all a sour look and said in an even sourer tone, "Thanks. Your confidence is inspiring. Why do I feel like I've just been shafted?"

Javik sneered, "Your personal habits are not our concern, only that you have the ability to lead."

"Fine. Ushal, take us to the Normandy." Marcus stated boldly, glad that he'd kept watching the prothean when those four eyes sharpened dramatically and a small smile flitted across the other's face. "With a small detour to pick up Errol and Simp."

"It will take time to correlate the Normandy's most likely location. The geth and the Council fleet did a very good job keeping her hidden."

"Good, that'll give us some time to go over Miranda's data."


	24. Chapter 24

_'Day 16, November 7th, 2200,_

_The phenomenon known as the Wave continues to resist standard testing, though observations of how it affects reality continue to hold consistent across the board among test subjects. Much like biotics, it appears to change things like physics in an area so that certain effects become possible. I'm forced to conclude that biotics are closely tied in with this manifestation.' _

The tiny Miranda on the screen pointed to a set of graphs and the camera zoomed in to take in the sheet that was scrawled all over in scientific and mathematical notation. The first tapes had dated back to 2188, he thought with interest,_ the last year of the Reaper War, the year Shepard died._ She waved gracefully before continuing, '_This idea that the Wave function represents reality means that the Wave function includes all information that is in principle available about the system, i.e., nothing is missing. Nevertheless, even if we knew the Wave function of a system (and therefore reality), its future behavior cannot be predicted with certainty. This could mean that there is inherent randomness in nature. This could mean that there's something still missing. But what if there was another factor? A counter-wave.'_

Marcus felt a hand drop onto his shoulder and looked up into green eyes and smiled at Susan, who squeezed in next to him and watched with him as Miranda spouted off jargon that sounded suspiciously like code to him. Susan laughed and said, "Do you understand any of this?"

"I was following at the beginning, but...I'm afraid experimental physics wasn't very high on the list of priority classes to take for a soldier. The math, I can get to a level but when it starts getting to the point where two plus two doesn't necessarily equal four, that's when I usually quit."

Mira spoke up from behind them, sighing in exasperation, "She's saying that she thinks linear time, reality and probability aren't the only factors in determining causality."

They both raised brows at this and looked at her and Marcus waved a hand at the monitor, "Care to interpret for us?"

She pouted but they could both see the eagerness there, to prove herself and they wiggled to the end of the bench to make room for her and she plopped down with typical teenage bonelessness. Leaning forward, she watched her mother work for a moment and said, "See this part of the diagram? It states that reality changes when observed. The mere act of observation changes reality."

She turned expectantly to them and they returned blank stares. Susan said, "I've heard something of that nature, the salarians are always arguing about particles, string theory, but they never seemed to come to a solid conclusion about it."

"You don't get it. People are the missing factor. People _change _reality when they observe it. How can one conclusion be reached when many different conjectural viewpoints are influencing the tests?" She grinned as light dawned in their eyes. "Biotics force regular physics to change in an area by manipulating probability and the forces of entropy. Physics, plain old the apple falls and hits Newton on the head physics just stops in a mass effect field. The more powerful the biotic, the longer and more dramatic the change in the fabric of space/time. But the rules are elastic and come back into play when the effect wears off."

The Miranda on the screen was pensively looking into space and said, _"Non biotics do this subconsciously, this changing the world around them, mostly affirming what they expect to see by making it happen. A rock falls to the ground when dropped, not up into the sky. Such a thing if it was observed would not go unnoticed, in fact, I doubt it would happen at all. The mind abhors unnatural happenings, might work subconsciously against it. The biotic talent may be a conscious tapping of a deeper connection to how the universe works. No such thing as objective reality. It probably exists outside of observation, yes, it might even have nearly the same rules, but only when you're watching, does it do exactly what is expected. I wonder..."_

"Before she sent me away, I remember she had volunteers try injections of eezo in small amounts to see if that changed just how much they affected reality, but she was so frustrated that it couldn't be measured by any of the devices she had built." The human girl turned to look at them, "But sometimes it worked and sometimes if you brought the right combination of people together, they could make something happen, something science as we know it couldn't explain ful-"

_'Jane? Janie, get away from there. Don't eat that." _Mira's head snapped around to lock onto the screen, where an even tinier version of herself was being picked up off the floor and hoisted to a hip. Miranda's face lit up as she bounced her child, cooing in a little sing song, '_Momma loves her Miracle baby, yes she does. My Janie, what would you say if Momma told you you'll change the universe someday? Just by thinking it. Hmm, maybe you already are. You certainly changed my universe.'_

The girl sitting next to her reached out to touch the woman's face and at the last minute, shifted her hand to turn it off before slowly leaning back into the seat, her face averted. Marcus reached past Susan and squeezed Mira's shoulder, smiling kindly when the girl shot him a hard look, that softened when she saw he wasn't mocking her. "Her little joke, naming me Miracle."

Susan had a shock of recollection that was clearly not hers, of storming into Miranda's lab and demanding results, making not so subtle threats while looking upon the woman and her child. She shook it off and clutched her head for a second, banishing her unwelcome memories to the back of her mind. She turned to Mira, "Why did she start working with them?"

"There was no_ them_ at the beginning. It started out as just a research grant. For some company that was interested in finding out just what happened to the Reapers. Some of her former, and 'reformed', colleagues encouraged her to join them." Mira crossed her legs, "But mom was always more interested in Shepard. Borderline obsessed about her. Like how, with all of mom's genetically enhanced legacy, could one fairly unremarkable human soldier with no biotics to speak of do all the things she did. Defeat the Collectors with only a dozen people, bring the entire galaxy together to fight the Reapers, her influence even extended past her death. Mom was always a bit vexed that she was unable to anything of the sort. I think it was a species of jealousy."

"I wouldn't exactly say Shepard was unremarkable..." Marcus said.

"Unremarkable, genetically, I mean. Mom was engineered to be perfect, in every way. Yet, powerful as she was, she was consistently taking a back seat to Shepard. Was it just charisma? What made one woman capable of changing the galaxy in such highly improbable ways?" Mira sighed and played with her lip in a way that was heavily reminiscent of the woman they had just been watching on the monitor. "She had a theory that reality was like a rubber sheet and people were like lead spheres resting on it. They all have weight. Some are bigger than others, they deform more of space/time around them. Some can actively change how much they influence reality despite their relative weight, these are biotics. But you don't have to be a biotic to change reality, it can be nudged in the right direction."

"Wait, wait, are you really saying that the entire universe," Marcus began and took a breath before finishing, "is run on _persuasion?"_

"Hey, it's just a theory and one without proof, though that would almost suggest that it _could_ be true. Personally, I think mom was just a little crazy, especially near the end. When she started using the machines herself." The girl bit her lip like she hadn't meant to say that last bit.

"What do you mean, she started using the machines?" Susan asked, brows furrowed.

"She'd built an...engine, of sorts. One that boosted the natural influence a person had tenfold or more, again it was immeasurable so she was never certain just how much, but the more 'weight' someone had, the larger the return. And she found that the proximity of other 'weights' added to the effect as well, it's like if all the small lead pellets gathered into a pile, it would make a bigger dent in the rubber sheet." Mira stalled for a moment before continuing, "I think she was gratified that she turned out to be a 'large' weight."

"You seem to know a lot about her research." Marcus said, more a question than a statement.

Mira flashed a bitter smile, "I had been her research assistant since I was twelve. I'm a genius. I have quite a collection of letters after my name on certain certificates. Mom put my first PhD on the fridge next to my crayon drawings of unicorns. A point of pride for her, that she could pass on her 'perfection' genetically."

Susan felt a pang at that, surely the girl didn't think she was some clone, some cheap copy of her mother. She reached out to flick the monitor back on, the frame frozen on Miranda's face as she looked down at her baby with glowing affection. She let it speak for her as she watched the girl's eyes grow bright with unshed tears and then fast forwarded past that year's entries to one that sparked the interest of the stolen soul in her. She looked at the timestamp. The year was 2210. She hit play.

_'Makryth, stop. It doesn't work like that.' _Miranda stopped the drell from hooking himself into the machine, '_It is specifically calibrated only to me. It won't do anything for you, except possibly kill you."_

_'Why can you not make these for everyone?' _Makryth seemed incensed, nearly throwing the harness down in his frustration.

"I-he was angry that it was out his reach, that this wonder was another thing outside of the world he lived in. Was trapped in." Susan said, frowning.

_'I told you, not everyone has the ability to use it. If you had been reading my research notes, you would know why.' _

"Condescending, he thought, because she knew that he had a very limited grasp on math and science. A direct product of having grown up on a planet with no technology." She was unaware of the stares of the two at either side of her as she relived the memory on the screen.

'_And yet you made one for Jacob.' _Spat the angry drell as he stomped up to stand before Miranda, who looked down at him with something like scorn. Susan remembered thinking that proper women should be smaller, shorter, not tower above him like Miranda did, with less wasteful flesh around the hips and bust. But it hadn't stopped the arousal that hit him as he looked up into her blue eyes, or not feel the hope she represented.

'_Jealous, Makryth? It doesn't become you.' _Miranda ran her hand along the other's cheek and Susan reached up to her own cheek, remembering that warm touch as if it were happening just then. She shivered as Miranda continued, _'Truth is, I don't know why Jacob can use the engine and you cannot. That's what I'm trying to find out, what your investors are paying me to find out.'_

_'When, Miranda, when will you deliver unto us this marvel? I am eager to see a new day dawn.'_

_'As am I. This new technology might be limitless, can you imagine?' _Miranda turned back to her machine and started animatedly talking about recent discoveries and how they correlated to what she was working on. Makryth nodded politely, but Susan knew he understood very little of what she was talking about and how it rankled.

"He resented her, even as he worshiped her. No worship isn't the right word, because he saw the wonders she could do, he cared little for the woman who did them. Divine messengers should have the grace to be humble." Susan grimaced, aware now how far she had slipped into that other's consciousness and pushed it away.

Marcus watched her with concern and reached out to touch her hand where it clenched in the fabric of her trousers. She relaxed and wrapped her hand around his, holding it tightly as Miranda started putting on the harness on the monitor.

_'Let me show you something.' _Miranda grinned, all eagerness and barely checked excitement. Makryth couldn't help but smile as well, Susan knew, though his face was partly obfuscated by the machinery. She felt her own mouth stretch from the memory. The engine powered up with a whine and Miranda staggered a bit as the IV's started pumping that whitish fluid into her. She spoke, '_Think about being over there, Makryth, over by that far console. Think about it hard."_

Puzzled, the drell turned and his brows drew down as he concentrated. Miranda reached down and punched some keys and then her back bowed as the engine lit up brighter than ever and Makryth simply vanished with a small popping sound and there was an exclamation somewhere off camera and Miranda laughed, even as she sagged in the harness as though terribly exhausted. The drell echoed her laughter and walked back to the woman, shaking his head, his face split in a genuine smile of wonderment and helped her out of the yoke that bound her, lifting her easily in his arms and the pair exited the lab, talking and laughing still.

"Miranda built the engines that give the Shepards' ships unlimited maneuverability on the battlefield. But why Shepard's people? Why Wrex, Liara and all the rest?" Marcus said, feeling a touch of awe himself at the display.

"She never meant for all this to happen. She should have guessed that it might. After all, it's kind of become tradition for science to unwittingly create the next tool used by the unscrupulous for mass destruction. The whole, 'I am become Death, destroyer of worlds' thing." Said Mira, throwing her arms into the air. "As far as why Shepard's companions, well, mom found that the ability to affect the plane of reality seemed to be 'loudest' in those who'd been exposed to Shepard."

"You make her sound...radioactive." Susan said, frowning.

"In a sense, yeah. Something about Shepard drew the right people to her at the right time. And there was a gestalt of sorts, where together they were somehow more than they were individually. Mom always lamented not being able to test Shepard on the Lawson Scale. She always felt that that simple soldier would test off the charts." Mira squirmed in her seat.

Marcus used his omnitool to flip through the entries to the last one and started it. Miranda hung from the harness limply, the rest of the lab was dark, the only point of light the machine behind her. Footsteps sounded from the left of the camera and soon they were staring at Makryth's back. He stopped before he reached her.

Susan and the man on the screen spoke softly in unison, _"We have taken them."_

"Okaaaay, that was spooky." Mira said, leaning away from her. Susan tensed, but didn't take her eyes off the screen.

_"I know." _Her voice, not much more than a rasp, was deeply mournful.

_"You were a fool for denying the truth.' _Susan bit her thumbnail to keep her mouth occupied as a scene she knew by heart unfolded before them.

_'As if you know it.' _

The drell sighed, '_I feel it, Miranda. This is right. How can you stand seeing the peace the Shepard died for be squandered so?'_

_'Peace was never the point.'_ Miranda said tonelessly, '_I know what you've done. I know why the people are silent.'_

_'It was necessary. You yourself said that people were too diverse in thought to actually make something of this wonder you've made. This was the only way.'_

_'No. But maybe you don't realize what a monumental lie that is. This was never meant to happen. This isn't the way.' _

_'Then what is, Miranda? Tell me the god's will and I will do it. You must hear her.' _The man pleaded, dropping to his knees before her.

Miranda lifted her head and fixed a weary eye on him, '_I wish I could hear her. I wish she'd never died, maybe she'd have told me not to continue this before it was too late. More fool me. Shepard is dead and I have made a mockery of her memory.'_

_'No, chosen of the god, through you we will reach higher glories than ever before. And the galaxy will revere you all for it.' _He stated with satisfaction, as though he could already see it on the horizon. Miranda's shoulders shook with grief and Makryth reached out to wipe the tears from her stricken face. He spoke with sincere concern, '_How long have you been in the harness this time? When was the last time you ate? Or slept?'_

_'It doesn't matter.'_

_'No, it does, the flesh is weak, it must be tended. If you are unwilling, let me take care of it. Let me take care of you.' _Makryth's voice dripped reason and Susan knew Miranda's spirit, sore with loss and guilt was wavering.

'_Please, don't. I can't-' _Miranda pushed at him weakly as he gently unhooked her from her bindings until she fell into his arms, unable even to hold herself upright.

_'Shh, dear heart, a place has been made ready for you and all the others. One last experiment to prove our power and you will see the glory of it come to fruition.'_

_'Don't hurt them, Makryth. She wouldn't like it if you hurt them.' _She clutched at his coat with trembling fingers. He prized them off firmly and patted them where they now lay against her too thin chest.

_'No, we need them. They won't die in our care. We will love them as she loved them, forever and ever.' _Others joined him in the room and he passed the nearly comatose woman to one of the attendants, who walked off. Makryth turned to the ones who were left, gesturing to the machinery, '_Break it all down. I want it on the moon of Alchera before the day after tomorrow. Use the First.'_

"The First?" Muttered Marcus, exchanging looks with Susan and Mira, the girl shrugged, as lost as they were. Susan's eyes were stormy with conflicted emotion and she shook her head as the recording continued.

_'Hmmm.' _Makryth hummed deep in his throat.

One of his attendants spoke up, '_What is it, augurer?'_

_'Miranda's...condition brings to mind an unfortunate truth.'_

_'An unfortunate truth?"_

_'The apostles. Their spirits may be divine, but their flesh is weak. Even should we care for them for the rest of their lives, they will eventually slip beyond our grasp.'_

_'What can be done?'_

_'Tell me, did the Apostle Miranda ever speak to any of you about a thing called the Lazarus Project?' _At their tentative nods, he continued, _'I data-mined it years ago and sent it to our other sects. It may be time to recall the particulars. Our apostles cannot be allowed to leave us, even in death.'_

Susan felt her gorge rise as she thought about what that simple statement, almost an afterthought, would lead to, the horror of what the reality of it was. Marcus was equally unsettled and stopped the recording there and there was silence between the three of them that lasted for a very long time. Finally, Mira broke the tension, "Can I...borrow these recordings? I'd like to watch them, see if I can't glean any more data out of them."

"Knock yourself out." Marcus said, knowing there was more to it than that. He stood and stretched, shaking out muscles stiff from sitting so long and made his way to the star map, leaning out over it and watching the triangle that was the ship he was in approach a glowing rectangle he knew represented the Leilani, the ship that had carried them on their mission into Shepard space.

Susan walked up the low ramp to stand next to him. Marcus turned his head slightly to look at her tense face, "Did...Makryth know anything about what this First is?"

The asari shook her head and replied, "All Miranda's findings, he sent off elsewhere. He knew there were other arms of the conspiracy, ones that had little contact with his branch. Apparently, the Shepards of the time had adopted Cerberus' strategy of having separate cells."

"Makes sense, seeing as whatever was left of Cerberus is now a part of them. Some of those early missions, I'd find the Shepard's icon on dead Cerberus soldiers." Marcus opened his mouth to say more, but Ushal's voice boomed out over the comms.

"I believe we have a problem, Marcus."

"What is it?"

"An enemy cruiser is on an intercept course."

Marcus stared hard at the map, "Where? And how long til it gets to us?"

A glowing red circle appeared on the map, several lightyears away and Marcus breathed a relieved sigh. It was further out than the Leilani, but along the same trajectory. They'd have time to pick up Simp and Errol before having to deal with it.

"A standard galactic day. It is hailing us over QE comms, ordering us to rendezvous with them. It is the Abraxus."

His blood turned to ice as he leaned on the railing for support as his vision tunneled in on that red circle, blue flames licking at the edges of his periphery. He hissed, "The _Abraxus."_

Susan wanted to tell him, _we should run. This frigate has no chance against a cruiser. _But she'd sworn to help him and help him she would, whatever he decided.

He was torn, how could he only think of his revenge for Paulus and endanger these people who followed him? An unconscionable betrayal of their trust. But_ she_ was there, coming to him on that ship that had thus far eluded him, to his utter frustration. What could he do? There was no choice really. His voice drifted out of him, a soft dead sound that belied the raging fire in his guts, the trembling in his hands, "We should run."

"Vakarian-CO, the window for escape is narrow. If we delay by picking up those left on the Leilani, it will be impossible." Ushal warned. "Once we divert our course, they will know us for enemies."

He slammed his fist down on the rail with a curse, their options were so limited. Part of him, a large part of him was slavering in bloodthirsty hunger, it shouted that they stay and fight and fight until he finally had that female's throat in his hands, no matter the cost. The other part that said to run quailed at the thought of abandoning Simp and Errol to death or capture, for surely the cruiser would notice them soon with their long range sensors. He looked to Susan, asking for her input without words.

She watched the desperation flicker in his eyes, fear touching her with icy fingers as she saw all his old demons dancing in their depths. How it must torture him, this decision. She knew that had he been alone, he would even now be barreling toward that ship and the woman who killed his brother, gleefully. But now, with them here, he wasn't free to act as he wanted. She thought of her sisters, of Javik so recently rescued from these misguided adversaries, of Errol and Simp and said, with determination, "Let's get Errol and Simp."

"But your sisters, Javik..." Odd how their thoughts aligned at times, but that he even thought of them reassured her. Told her that he was in control, no matter how tenuous. That he wasn't being ruled by his darker passions.

She tapped her omnitool to open her comms, "Javik, there's a cruiser coming to intercept us. Running means leaving behind some comrades."

"We do not leave comrades behind." The prothean rumbled in amusement, "They are coming to meet us? Excellent. What is the plan?"

Susan turned a mildly sardonic smile to Marcus' astonished face. The turian gaped for a moment and then cleared his throat, "I-I-just...gimme a minute."

"It's a cruiser, we're in a frigate, give him some time to come up with something." She said to Javik, then she cut the comms.

Her voice, filled with confidence sparked a warmth in him as did her hand, which had found its way to his cheek. He quaked, the future seemed to be rushing at them, full of unknowns and doubts. He feared that he would prove unworthy, yet again. This confrontation felt long in coming and the knowledge that it would soon be upon him, upon them all, carried with it a new sense of...urgency. He realized then that he was eager, not just for vengeance, but for the challenge. To test his newfound sanity against the thing that had broken it. To see if he was truly capable of continuing afterward.

Grimly, he realized that this would either make him or break him irreparably.


	25. Chapter 25

"The captain is indisposed at the moment, but he wishes me to extend a welcome to our comrades on the Abraxus." The girl looked earnestly into the vidscreen, her outward appearance changed to look like a bridge officer. The uniform and the callow seriousness she was projecting making her seem much older than her sixteen years. Marcus nodded in approval, even as inwardly he felt the itch of worry.

It was foolish to try this a third time, surely. He shifted on his feet as Simp and Errol along with Susan made multiple passes in and out of the camera's view behind Mira, trying to make the bridge seem a lot more occupied than it really was.

The comms crackled as the cruiser replied, "We have come to glorify the Apostle Javik . You have him in custody?"

"Yes, sir, we do."

"Praise the Shepard."

Mira echoed the sentiment, albeit a bit shakily and Marcus made calming gestures at her.

"I'm sending my XO over to collect him. Be prepared for her arrival. Abraxus out." The screen went dark and Marcus exchanged grimaces with Susan.

Susan's heart was beating a fast tattoo in her chest. Aleia was coming. In a matter of moments, she would be here and then what would happen? The situation seemed impossible. Deny the Abraxus their prize, kill Aleia and whoever else she had with her and they would all most likely die to the massive cannons she could see gleaming out there on that cruiser that hung sedately in space just outside the viewports.

And though she could see none of it under the utter stillness Marcus exhibited, she knew there must be a battle of epic proportion happening within his mind.

Marcus took a calming breath that did little to actually calm him and firmly reminded himself of the people who were depending on him and how terrible it would be to forget himself now. He closed his eyes and forced thoughts of Susan and the rest to the forefront of his mind, trying to bury the need to kill, to destroy. He fought desperately for clarity and started as he felt a hand come to rest on his arm. His eyes opened to see Javik looking at him with an unreadable expression.

The prothean said, "I sense much conflict in you. Something beyond the simple worry of this ruse failing."

Marcus cleared his throat, nervously, "This...woman they're sending to get you...She and I have...history."

Something of the bitter rage that welled up in him must have leaked into his gaze because Javik nodded in understanding, "And you seek retribution?"

He coughed a short bitter laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, "It'll be really difficult not to shoot her in the face the moment she sets foot on this ship."

"I understand the need for vengeance. In my cycle, I had become the avatar of it." The prothean took his hand away and stood pensively, his gaze far far away, "I counsel...patience, Marcus."

_Patience, as if it were that easy._ He thought ruefully as Javik sauntered away. Marcus thought of the incoming guests and how far into the ship they would most likely wander before they realized that something was definitely not right. "Ushal, are they coming in through the shuttle bay or are they docking at the airlock up here?"

"They are in the airlock. Four minutes until decontamination is complete."

"Scramble their comms, everyone to their positions." He jogged to the bridge of the ship and plopped into the pilot's seat, his back to the arriving enemy soldiers. "How many are there?"

"Four, including Aleia." There was a tenseness in the geth's mechanical voice that made Marcus cock his head in question, his browplates furrowing.

"Ushal-"

"I could jettison them into space. I could make it look like an accident."

Marcus sighed and winced, "Then they would just send more to investigate. There's close to four hundred men and women on that bird. I think they'd get a little suspicious if their teams keep getting spaced. I'm surprised at you, Ushal. You know how illogical and imprudent that course of action would be."

The geth was silent for a long moment before finally stating, "This geth unit remembers how our creator counterpart was made to suffer, and how Vakarian-CO's brother was also made to suffer. We have reached consensus that it will bring us great satisfaction when you finally destroy her."

He heard Errol behind him mutter, almost in disbelief, "...Vakarian?"

He ignored this as alarms went off in his head. Marcus swallowed in worry. A crystallized geth personality didn't usually drop back into the use of the plural 'we' and 'our'. Was this regression how the machine dealt with trauma? It was disturbing to think that the geth had been as deeply affected by what had happened. It wasn't right, Ushal should have been spared this agony. His friend deserved better. "Ushal, Kinz was a good man. And I am so sorry that I couldn't save him, but he wouldn't want this. Not for you. Don't let yourself become..._less _than you-"

"They come." The machine interrupted and Marcus straightened stiffly in his chair as the doors to the airlock slid almost soundlessly open. He barely heard Mira welcome the boarding party over the sudden cacophany in his chest, the sickening drop in his guts.

A voice he hadn't heard in an age sounded loudly in the cabin, "I assume the prothean is ready for transport?"

He forced himself not to turn, though it strained his control to do so. Ten feet, she was only ten feet away. Too close for the rifle, too far for a knife. He reassured himself with this fiction, pretending that he was unable to act and it was enough, barely. He heard Mira respond, "Yes, ma'am. They're bringing him up now."

Marcus locked the airlock controls behind the soldiers with a few button presses at the helm. He could hear the people milling behind him as the seconds dragged into minutes. Aleia said, "Where is my good friend, Captain Tolith?"

Smoothly, the girl answered, "The captain is in the chapel on deck one."

"Oh, really? The old heretic is finally spending some time with the god, is he? Perhaps I should go see this miracle for myself."

He heard shuffling on the deck and turned his head just enough to see Aleia and her honor guard, all praetorians, their heavy shields glinting in blue streaks, start to walk in brisk decisive steps into the command center of the ship and almost leapt out of his chair to get ready for battle when their ruse failed when Mira, with Errol and Simp beside her, and showing uncanny bravery stepped in front of them and held up her hands, "My apologies, Inquisitor, but the captain asked to not be disturbed."

"Hmph. Ah, there is our prize."

At the far end of the room, Marcus saw Susan and Javik walking toward the party, the prothean's hands clasped behind his back as though restrained. Stealthily, Marcus stood and picked up his rifle and stalked silently toward the turned backs of their 'guests'. His visor measured the closing distance in meters. So close, now, if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her lightly clad shoulder.

Susan held her rifle in a nonchalant way that nevertheless conveniently targetted the praetorians moving forward to secure their prisoner. Javik shot her a glance as the men circled him warily, knowing any second now they'd notice the distinct lack of cuffs on his wrists. On cue, one of them said, in surprise, "He's not-!"

Susan and Javik burst into movement. She tucked her shoulder and rammed one of the guards hard in the stomach. He fell back with a 'oof' and brought his shotgun to bear on the small woman only to have it wrenched to the side by Errol, its blast taking out one of the crew stations in this narrow corridor. Javik had one man down, his throat crushed under a red armored knee. Susan, Errol and Simp fought to contain the other two without letting their weapons pierce the hull in this area of the ship. The asari spared a glance to where Aleia shouted commands to her overwhelmed soldiers, oblivious to the threat that loomed behind her.

As Marcus reached for her, he found himself conflicted. Kill her or incapacitate her, the choices hounded him with their implications. But as he watched her ready a biotic shockwave that would send his allies flying and possibly breach the hull, he acted. Almost on its own, his rifle butt came up in a smooth arc and collided with the back of her head with a sharp crack. She crumpled to the deck, dazed, turning slowly over to see what or who had struck her and he finally saw the face that had tormented him for nearly two years now, once so loved, now a symbol of his failure. It froze in a shock of recognition.

Blue flames licked the edges of his vision as he stared down at her. She was still beautiful, the pale lines on her dark face perfectly accenting her angular features, her mandibles delicately framing her cheeks. Hard to believe that this benign countenance had once been stretched in sadistic glee at the idea of torturing him. But he knew better and the end of his ancient rifle drifted almost serenely to center on her horrified expression. Blue energy started to flicker around her hands and he spoke one word that rang in the space profoundly, bringing silence and stillness in its wake, "Don't."

She knew better than to argue and returned his steely regard, her eyes large in her face and she whispered, "Marcus..."

Her speaking his name sliced through the thin curtain that separated him from his anger like a dull knife, and he snarled wordlessly as he pulled the trigger. At the last second, a slim blue hand snaked out and yanked his aim awry and the bullet meant for Aleia's skull planted itself in the decking next to her shoulder. Marcus hissed in rage and turned a baleful glare on whoever dared to interfere now, of all times. His tidal wave of anger rose and broke against Susan's calm expression like it was a wave break with an almost physical pain, the tag ends of it drifting away into the ether. He just stopped himself from retaliating. He knew her, she must have reason.

Susan had been watching the exchange, fully intent on letting him do this thing he needed to do when a memory stirred, not one of hers. _'Where are they?' Makryth's sandy voice filled her head. She stood under a strong sun, the atmosphere hazy with foggy particles, she can almost feel the planet's ambient radiation soaking into her skin, leaving her limbs feeling awash in a prickling sensation. So strange. _

_The female turian with her says, 'Be assured, the Cradle is secure. Its location a well kept secret. All five apostles have found new berths, just like the First. Only this time, our hopes are much higher.'_

_Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a small shape flitting through the trees, and knows it to be a child, barely more than a babe, innocently exploring the wilderness. How wasteful, all that energy wasted. Her mind told her children should be still, and quiet and wary. Not the reckless jumble of tiny limbs this one was. But the child had his uses and the man of memory turned back to the woman, who had watched him watching her child with a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. Aleia shook her head minutely in warning, and Susan felt Makryth's mouth stretch in a mirthless smile, 'So the ruthless Inquisitor does have a weakness, after all.'_

_'Makryth, you dare-'_

_'Relax, my dear. You know my methods, the faithful need never fear them.' He stressed the 'faithful' part, just to watch her wince, 'Has he been tested on the engine?'_

_Her silence was damning, all the children were to be tested on the engine, such was the law, in hopes of finding any that could use it and young minds were more...flexible, more able to bounce back from trauma. The Susan that watched felt her mouth go dry at the implication, saw a startling familiarity in the way that small turian jumped from hillock to tree and snapped out of it in time to see-_

Marcus pulling the trigger, he had to be stopped. Her hand found his arm and jerked it sharply to one side. She nearly fell back when those burning blue eyes found her, but she stood fast in the face of it and demanded of the woman at their feet, "Where is the Cradle?"

"How do you kno-?" Her words were cut off as the tip of Marcus' rifle snapped back to her face.

"Answer. The. Question." His words were a soft staccato in the sudden silence, no less a threat for all their quietness. He felt control start to seep back into his limbs and took a deep shuddering breath, grateful that Susan's hand was still on his arm, lending him strength. Aleia's eyes flitted to the asari's hand and back up to his face, an unreadable expression flashing over her face for a second.

"Vakarian-CO, the Abraxus is requesting an update." Ushal said.

Marcus watched a devious flicker fill Aleia's eyes as she quickly got over the shock of seeing him alive and she said, in a low purr, "If I don't check in, you'll have a fully armed squad over here in a matter of minutes."

He lifted her by her throat, squeezing just so to get his point across and said, "Say anything, try_ anything_ and I'll gladly shoot your lying face off."

Marcus threw her toward the console roughly, where she collided with its rigid frame with a pained cry, half falling as she tried to catch herself. She straightened and squared her shoulders proudly, putting on the imperious air she'd worn when she first arrived. She flipped on the comms, her voice slightly hoarse as she said, "Inquisitor Alea, checking in."

"Have you secured the package?" An ageworn human face stared back from the monitor.

"Yes, sir."

"Then what the hell is taking so long?"

"I was just catching up with some old...friends." The irony wasn't lost on any present.

"Well, wrap it up. We're due to rendezvous with the Ninth in three hours."

"Sir, may I make a suggestion?"

"Shoot."

"The apostle is just as secure here as he would be on our vessel. And having another ship for the assault couldn't hurt."

"Hmmm true. Very well. Relay the order to Captain Tolith. He's to join us in capturing the Normandy. Renshaw out." The screen went dark and Aleia leaned against the console, her hand coming up to touch her throat gingerly.

"The Normandy?" Mira said, crossing her arms as she leaned against a bulkhead.

"Yes, I thought that would get your attention. The Ninth fleet is due to engage your busy little friends in less than four hours."

Errol shook his head, horrified, "No..."

"Yes, soon they shall all return to the fold and be forgiven for the sin of taking away all but two of our glorified apostles." Her mandibles stretched in a wry smile meant to goad.

"Bitch." Simp ground out from between clenched teeth.

Susan stepped up to the female and shoved her bodily into the console, arm at her throat, "Is my mother one of the ones they rescued? Tell me or I'll-"

"Are you going to torture me, little asari? Did Marcus tell you what I did to him? To his brother?" Aleia's eyes glinted madly as she stared past Susan at Marcus. Like she was deliberately baiting him. Susan feared that soon she would be covered in brains and blue blood, but was thoroughly startled when Marcus peeled her away gently, placing himself between them like he was protecting her from Aleia's influence.

"Don't listen to her, Susan. She's poisonous." Was this what he'd dreamt of for nearly two years now? How...disappointed he was as he stared at this petty, small creature who once owned his heart. She was so transparent and he shook his head sadly at her attempt to provoke him to violence. She didn't even deserve that much any more.

"We can't kill her. She knows things." Mira stated firmly, her lips pressed into a grim line.

"That's right, I know things. Things like where Liara T'soni is, where the Cradle might be. I'm a valuable prisoner."

"You always did have an inflated sense of your own worth." Marcus gestured Simp and Errol forward, the latter having pulled out a set of shock cuffs, "Restrain her and toss her in the brig. We'll sort all this out before they hit the Normandy."

"That's very...merciful of you. Perhaps you've forgotten the look on Paulus' face as my bullet tore out the side of his skull." Dragging the men holding her arms, the female thrust herself forward until she was only a few inches from his face, but he stood fast, fully in control now, despite the sudden welling of disgust in him.

He took a deep, cleansing breath and said, calmly, "As tempting as blowing your brains all across this deck is, I have larger concerns that demand my attention."

"Where is the fire? Where is the hate? Hate me, Vakarian!" Her voice broke into dissonance at the end and he looked past her, _beyond_ her and clearly felt how her ire was raised at being ignored.

"You don't have that kind of hold over me any more. And you never will again." He allowed his gaze to drift back to hers, "You're powerless."

Finally, he felt something. A warmth in his chest, a small flickering thing, something of the old him rekindled and as he watched that woman being led away in the custody of four well trained people, his people, a lump formed in his throat. He mourned his younger self, his broken illusions, his horrible mistakes, but he couldn't let that hold him down in the gutter any more. There was too much at stake.

"You're trembling..." Susan said softly, touching his hand where it was clasped in a loose fist at his side. Her own heart was pounding from watching the confrontation, fear for him and pride in him warring within her. He seemed unsteady on his feet, surely feeling the aftereffects of so much emotional turmoil. But though the female lived, Aleia was defeated, in all the ways that counted. A joy burned in her guts, that he hadn't fallen further, that he'd proven himself solidly back in the land of the sane.

Marcus looked down at her absentmindedly, then raised one hand to observe its shakiness for himself, "Am I? I hadn't noticed."

"Sit down for a moment. If you fall, I don't think I can lift you, not without biotics anyway." She pushed him into one of the chairs that lined the walls and sat in the crew station next to him. After a long moment of watching him stare into space, she cleared her throat nervously, "Think we did the right thing? Keeping her alive, I mean."

There was another significant pause at the end of which he snorted, "If you'd told me on Omega that one day I'd see her, that she'd be within arms' reach and I'd let her live, I'd have called you crazy, crazier than I was at the time, which is to say, very crazy. Do I think she deserves to die...?"

She waited as he looked pensively into the middle distance, thoughts flashing in his eyes as he tried to make something of what had just happened.

Finally, he sighed, "No more or less than anyone else in this damn war, me included. A part of me wishes she was dead, to avenge Paulus, to...just have her out of my life, permanently."

"Paulus wouldn't have wanted you to...sink to that level."

"I know. It's all just so empty. Meaningless now. Paulus is gone and the only thing I can do is never forget." He said, sadly. "No, she'll live with what she's done unless she forces me to do otherwise. And she can help us find your mother, in the meantime. No doubt she knows many interesting things."

A thought struck her and she opened a shortwave comm channel to the squad below, "Javik, Aleia's not to meet with any...airlocking accidents on the way there. She still has to help us find mother."

An aggravated chuff answered her, "You think I do not know this? Perhaps you would like me to be the one to interrogate her, yes? Give her to me and I will have all the answers in a matter of hours."

She turned to Marcus, who shook his head minutely, "No, no torture."

"How you primitives expect to accomplish anything when you are so soft is beyond my comprehension." The prothean angrily muttered, "I merely want to get us that information. The end justifies the means."

"I don't run those kinds of ops. You gave me the lead, now follow or find some other patsy to convince. We'll find another way to do so, even if it means I'll have to ask her, politely." Marcus said, reaching over to cut the comms on her omnitool off.

They sat in silence some more. Susan thought back to the memory that had seized her earlier. That child, the possibility that he was...how to even broach the subject? She played with her lip as she said, "Marcus, about Aleia-"

"Please, I need some time...to think." He softened the words with a small smile and reached over to squeeze her arm warmly. "I need to sort things out, plan some sort of strategy for the thing happening in a few hours, go over logistics with Ushal and Errol. And, spirits, I still need to talk to her. I'm starting to think this day is never going to end."

She nodded in understanding, "If you need anything, let me know. I'm here for you."

"And how very thankful I am for that. I don't think I could have done any of that without you." He leaned over to nuzzle her temple briefly and she suddenly found it very hard to breathe, hope rattling the bars of the cage that was her heart. His words made her feel lifted, lighter than she had in a long time. So, for him, she stood and granted him solitude, a poor gift but one she could give gladly. Anything, for him.


	26. Chapter 26

She walked into the starboard observation room to behold a curious sight.

"-and their cities floated on the backs of huge creatures high over the green sands. Tall and majestic were their spires, all climbing toward the suns." Caesar grinned hugely into the pair of blue faces that looked up in awe at him from where the girls sat at his...feet? Paws? Their small fingers entwined in the fur of his mane. He himself was also seated on the floor, looking much the beast with his forelegs stretched out before him, his spine curved so his hindquarters rested easily to one side. He still towered above the two small asari, "This taa'ih remembers feeling full to the brim with joy and wonder at the sight of those city-armadas, their massive sails billowing in the strong winds of Chakura."

Mey made a noise that was torn between doubt and interest, "But how did they fly with tons of metal and things on their backs?"

The furred alien chuffed a laugh at her incredulous expression, "Surely, you are both aware of vapors that are lighter than the air we breathe? Well, the creatures upon whose backs those millions lived ordinary lives were full of such."

"Like balloons!" Rika exclaimed, her eyes large and sparkly as the images of his story filled her imagination. Susan herself smiled at the fanciful thoughts and leaned against a bulkhead. "That's why they needed sails."

"Obviously." Mey sneered, in unconscious imitation of their father. "They must have been very primitive to have not mastered mass effect fields."

Rika, who nearly always took her cues from her sister, scowled comically, "Yeah, primitive."

Caesar rumbled in humor, "The chakurai were clever to harness the natural world to their bidding, much as all races do. With their skills, they traversed their world much more swiftly than any people of their world had done before, made life easier, and a little less perilous. Primitive does not mean stupid."

"What happened then? Did they master spaceflight? Are they still around somewhere?" Mey fired one question after another and Susan shook her head at the child's impudence. But the male only laughed and shrugged.

"This was long long ago, those people are no more." Caesar smiled gently at the girls as they both made sad, disappointed noises. Susan cleared her throat, making all three turn and look at her. Her sisters smiled in greeting and the taa'ih nodded in acknowledgement.

She returned the nod and strode into the room, just as Rika asked, "Did the Reapers get them?"

"Tcha, child, no. Not all evils in the galaxy were committed by the ones you call the Reapers."

"Then what happened?" Mey and Rika said in unison, making Susan chuckle. She was curious, too.

Caesar was silent for a long moment before he finally said, "It is not important. This one would rather remember them for how they lived. How bright and untamed they were, how full of potential and light. They were beautiful."

The girls sighed in slight frustration, but their lips curled up at the corners. Mey, uncharacteristically tentative, asked, "This happened a long time ago?"

"Yes, a very long time ago." His grin was indulgent and he laid his head down onto his forelegs, looking up at her with his golden eyes that glowed with an inner light.

"And you were there?" She continued, nodding herself as he nodded, "How old are you?"

"What is time? A year on one planet is not the same as one on another."

"I mean, you must be really really old."

"Not so old. Old enough to know what is important. Living a worthy life is important, blood is important." He nodded at the two girls, illustrating with a flick of his claw the very clear connection between them, "Having aspirations is important. Time...not so much. It is only limiting. It is a finite limit on an infinite consciousness."

He could tell that this was a bit much for the two children to digest at once. "Think on it. Such things must be realized for one's self."

Rika said as the girls stood to leave at this very clear dismissal, "Do you know everything, Caesar?"

The male laughed, clear and loud and shook his head, "I do not. I would never hope for such a thing. How dull if there was nothing left to discover."

"Very dull, indeed." Susan said, "Mey, Rika, go take a nap in the crew quarters. Things might get loud again in a few hours. We might need to move quickly."

Obediently the twins left, the door swishing closed behind them and she sighed, they none of them ever caught a break. Susan turned to look at Caesar speculatively, his expression was, for the most part, unreadable. She sat on a lounge and crossed her legs before saying, "The chakurai...did they really exist?"

"Oh, yes."

"And they're extinct?"

"It is so. And sorrowful."

"Why?"

"It is always a sorrow when a thing is ended before its time, before it can reach the pinnacle of its potential." Caesar sighed, a deep whuffing noise that burst out of his chest through his muzzle, "But such things happen. They existed, and now they do not. Thousands upon thousands of such stories have happened and will happen until all the stars are cold and entropy has claimed us all. None of us will escape it."

Susan was quiet, thinking about this. "Then why do we bother at all?"

"Tcha, child," his words, the same he'd used earlier with Mey, but softer and he rolled a great golden eye to her, "because we exist now and it is glorious. Do you not feel it?"

"Hmm." Susan played with her lip and reached deep within her for an answer, lightly stroking a mental finger along the border of where 'she' ended and the foreign being in her began, a line that was getting fuzzier with time. Makryth's personality was nearly gone now, subsumed under her stronger will but she remembered joy at times in his life, and many times in her own, even the behemoth that slept in her screamed joy from time to time. Even with all the bad things that had happened, she found it worth going through for the things she lived for now and if it came down to the choice..., "I'd rather exist than not to have."

"Such is the choice of all rational beings. And even some irrational ones. And ones that were less what we'd see as beings than collections of dust and gasses. The universe is a strange place." He said with mock seriousness.

"And getting stranger all the time." She replied with a laugh, thinking of her shock one morning when she'd woken in Marcus' arms to see this pale furry alien watching her with too intelligent eyes and what she hoped was a benign smile on his muzzle.

They laughed together for awhile. Susan said, "You're very good with them."

"Your sisters?" At her nod, he smirked lazily, large pointy teeth flashing, strange how Mey and Rika weren't afraid of him. Caesar continued, "The one named Simp called it 'babysitting', though this _taa'ih_ has never deliberately sat on babes. And it is a pleasure to be among the young again. I had forgotten this."

The way he said it made her think that he didn't just mean Rika and Mey, that somehow they were all included and she was about to ask him exactly how old he was when Caesar stilled, and asked, "The...female is here, is she not? The one that my _sa'diqi_ was hunting."

"Yes. She's in the brig."

"I felt her as she went past. Her mind is a twisted shadowy place built upon illusions."

"That sounds like Aleia. I seriously thought Marcus was going to finish her off. I thought that was the plan." She rubbed her palms together, they were clammy just remembering the tangle of emotions she'd seen flash across Marcus' face, his inner struggle against his dark urges.

"Did he say why he spared her?"

Susan paused, "Honestly? I think he didn't want to put us in any more danger than we already are."

The hairy being harrumphed, as though unsatisfied with this answer, but in his eyes she saw a glow of approval, deep and abiding. He tapped her boot with one claw, "You are happy with this?"

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat, and finally said, "I am happy that he didn't lose himself again. I can't say I'm glad that the one who caused him so much pain is still alive."

Caesar flashed a savage smile at her sour tone and lifted his head up tall and straight, looking regal even though he still sat on his hindquarters like an animal, "These things tend to work themselves out. As I have heard the human say, 'karma is a bitch'. I would go further and say karma is a heat mad bitch with new pups, one who has spotted you trying to rob her nest, and is planning on doing awful things to you with fire and knives. Offenses that deserve return tend to get that return many times over. With great prejudice."

His analogy, though clouded in concepts she wasn't sure applied to the simple human idiom, came across understandably. "And if it endangers us again? Him again?"

"Tcha, we are always in danger. We can only take the challenges as they come with the strength of our wit and cunning...and hope."

If she had wished assurances from the wise beast, it was clear she wouldn't get any. Hope, she would try.

* * *

With some trepidation, he walked toward the cargo hold that housed their guest of honor and stood at its door for awhile, shifting from foot to foot. He knew he was stalling and the longer he stalled, the more danger they all faced.

Javik had offered to accompany him, but he didn't see the point. Plus, he felt he had to confront her himself. Marcus sighed and palmed open the door, it slid open to reveal Aleia sitting cross legged across from him, behind the glowing orange barrier that imprisoned her.

She smirked, "I was wondering when you'd show up."

He stepped in wordlessly, giving no outward sign that he'd even heard her and lifted the datapad in his hand to study its screen, what he'd gathered about the fleet strength written on its glowing surface. He walked casually to the cell and leaned against a crate before finally turning to acknowledge her presence. She seethed at the cold treatment he was giving her, he could see it in her blue eyes, the set of her shoulders. "Tell me about the fleet attacking the Normandy. How many ships exactly? How do they plan on taking her without destroying her?"

"You expect me to hand over the intel just like that? Oh, Marcus, I was so looking forward to being interrogated. I thought you'd want to tie me down, hurt me a little." Her voice was a seductive purr and he couldn't help his pulse picking up just a tad when she tilted her head just so, the memories of a thousand steamy encounters filling his brain. He shook them off easily and disdainfully looked over her head, as though bored with it all.

"Those were your games, Aleia, not mine. I take no pleasure in pain."

"I remember that wasn't always the case. How sometimes you'd scream in both-"

He sighed, weary of her manipulation, "I'm bored, you're boring me. Tell me what I want to know."

"Why should I? I have nothing to gain here from cooperating. It's not like you'll let me go. Hell, you'll probably all be dead once they realize you're not one of ours." She challenged him with a stare and he let the full force of his regard pierce her with a demand for information. She looked away first, unreadable thoughts flickering across her face.

"If I find a way to get us out of this situation, if I knew what we were going to be facing out there, then the chances of this frigate not exploding into so much detritus goes up significantly. This frigate, the one you are currently sitting in."

"And wouldn't it be glorious, to sacrifice myself for the cause. What fanatic wouldn't want that?" She rubbed her hands together gleefully, but somewhere behind this mask, he caught a glimpse, of...something. Like there was more, some other thing and he had the sudden inkling that maybe she wasn't as...adherent to the party line as she once was. A lever of sorts, one that he could ply.

"Fanatic, huh? You know, most fanatics don't call themselves that. They want to believe what they do is perfectly logical, perfectly reasonable." Marcus studied her for a time but she kept her face carefully neutral. Finally, he said, in a low voice, "I have a feeling that you have something to lose if we all die in this assault, so...Aleia."

Her name, spoken for the first time by him without bitterness, caught her attention as nothing else had and he continued, "Tell me what you want."

There was a long moment where neither spoke. He watched thoughts get shuffled and sorted behind her careful mask until at last she said, "I want...no, how does a trade sound? A little...reciprocity. Quid pro quo."

"Quid pro quo?"

"It's a human phrase, in one of their dead languages. Latin, I think it's called, it means 'this for that'. A fair exchange." Now she smiled almost smugly, "The lives of your friends, the possible prevention of the Normandy's capture by my comrades, that must be worth a lot to you and yours. So, I will answer your questions if you will answer my questions. One answer for one answer. The truth only."

"I'm not the one who had a problem telling the truth." He thought about it and realized that he hadn't much to lose, except pride possibly. And what was that in comparison to his shipmates' lives, not a whole hell of a lot. He'd learned that from this woman here. He didn't know much that would compromise any of the council's defenses out there, not much at all of military value. Plus he had the idea that she wouldn't be asking those kinds of questions anyway. He lifted his datapad and said, "How many ships are there likely to be attacking the Normandy?"

"One hundred and ten, and the fifth Sanctorum."

"Can I assume a Sanctorum is one of those carriers that enable your jump drives?" He put the numbers in, correcting his estimates.

"Ah-ah-ah, my turn. How did you survive Ushal crashing the Mark II into that ice planet?" She shifted so that she was leaning against the side wall and he had to lean forward slightly to see her face.

"I don't remember the crash, but I woke up hanging from the ceiling with a dislocated shoulder."

"Ouch. And yes, a Sanctorum is what our intelligence says your side has been calling a command carrier. Next."

"Which 'apostle' is in the fifth Sanctorum?"

"Well, it's a 'she' and she's blue and lovely-"

"This is not a game, Aleia." Inwardly, he sighed, so Liara T'soni hadn't been one of the ones rescued in their absence. Susan wasn't going to be happy about that, but the fact that they were now flying to meet her would be a small consolation, he hoped.

"I beg to differ. Everything is a game, to someone." Aleia laughed, a sound of subtle subharmonics, nothing like Susan's boisterous, honest laughs and Marcus just kept himself from wincing, "Speaking of blue women. Are you fucking Susan?"

"Jealous?" He shot back sarcastically.

"I'm going to assume that's a yes, even though you keep breaking the rules of this particular game. And yes, I am a little. You said you were mine, you remember? You wore my wristlet. Does Susan know that you don't have a heart to give any more?" Aleia laughed at his sour expression, "What is it with aliens and the Vakarian men? Perverted xenophiles the lot of you."

He growled, 'Now you're breaking the rules. One question at a time."

"So now you admit that this is a game. Well, then, tell me. Does Susan know that you have nothing to offer her beyond a hard cock?" Her smile was lascivious now and her gaze swept over him from head to foot, lingering in places lewdly. Once upon a time, that look would have had him unplated and ready but now all it did was call up a sadness in him. In a way, she was right. Susan deserved more than he could give. He wanted her to be happy, and if she stayed with him, she'd never look for it and it would never find her, not in the way it should.

"I've tried to te-." And he realized just who he was talking to and his gaze grew stern again. For form's sake, he answered her question, "She will know."

"And here I thought I was the selfish one. Well, well, well." Aleia seemed very happy contemplating Susan's inevitable grief and Marcus was reminded once again of why this woman was dangerous. She relished the turmoil she brought. Reveled in it even. "Any more questions?"

"How do they plan on taking the Normandy?"

"Ah, very, very easily. It's so simple that it's stupid and thus, will probably succeed."

"Aleia-"

"Relax, Vakarian. I'll tell you, just let me do it in my own time. Something as...historical as this deserves a bit of flair, don't you think?"

"If you're stalling..." He glowered at her.

She made placating gestures with her hands, the shock cuffs chiming softly as metal brushed against metal, "Well, has it never occurred to you that with the jump technology, we should be able to just pluck enemy fleets out of space and put them somewhere else? The heart of a star, for example. We wouldn't even need armadas then, just a single Sanctorum and no enemy could stand against us. The same for planets whose inhabitants are reluctant to convert, just pick them all up and deposit them somewhere where they can do no harm.

"And yet...we can't. We can only move friendly ships, ones with our people on board and while the movement of a Sanctorum is unlimited, the ships that escort her cannot jump beyond her influence. But every soldier on every ship is tied to the harnessed power of Shepard's apostles, can in the right frame of mind, call that power to themselves and jump to another location. As long as that location is known to the machine mind. We will make the Normandy known to Liara."

"But Liara already knows the Normandy."

"Not as closely as she knows that cruiser out there or as she once knew this ship. There is only me here that can be heard by her. Because of the implants in my brain. The implants in the brains of every one of us. She needs us to tell her where we are and where we want to go."

Marcus felt a dread wash over him and ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And that will lead to capturing the Normandy how exactly?"

Her expression said she should ride him for breaking the rules yet again, but she acquiesced, "We will board her. If even one of the nav-commandos trained to do so can get aboard, your Normandy will be gone, taken to a secure location by the Sanctorum and disabled, the people aboard her captured."

"...Fuck." He saw it happen in his mind's eye, "Can all of you do this?"

"In theory...But only the most 'pious' of navigators can move whole ships safely." Again, the sarcasm, it was slight but very present and he wondered just how 'pious' she was. Something must have happened to shake her faith so. It didn't burn like it had so long ago. "Without the proper coordinates, you might very well end up in the core of a planet or in the middle of an asteroid belt or somewhere worse."

"Even if you could get past the escort fleet and counter her stealth drive and somehow engage the docking tube, there's no guarantee you'll be able to board her at all. Her crew is highly trained, skilled in every form of combat you could think of."

"It's inevitable. There will be hundreds of shuttles queuing up to board her. One of us will make it to tread her decks and then it'll be over. We'll have all of them and then the galaxy will bow to our will." She pulled her knees to her chest and clasped her hands loosely over them, giving him a sardonic look, "I'd say surrender now and hope they take it easy on you, but once they figure out it was you on Omega, that they lost Omega because of you, well..."

"As if I'd ever put myself under your power willingly again." He flicked a contemptuous glance at her as he punched keys on the datapad. Silence reigned for a while as he let his mind unspool everything he'd just learned and tied it into what he already knew.

"My turn again, isn't it?" A small icy smile tugged at her mandibles as she locked gazes with him, "I saw Sanders. Or what was left of him, I should say. I always kept a close watch on anyone closely tied to the Vagabonds, in case betrayal became a habit. So...did you enjoy torturing him?"

Marcus shuddered and closed his eyes, but shot them open again at her laughter, spearing her with a wrathful glare. She seemed delighted to finally get a rise out of him and he stood as though to leave. Her voice chased him though and he paused, "No, it's okay, you can blame that one on me, too. But go, make your plans, no matter how futile."

He palmed the door open and stopped about halfway past the frame and leaned against it, shoulders sinking briefly. He was torn between his heart and his mind. The one demanded answers, the other refused to acknowledge the need. And for once, the latter lost, as it had always lost in regards to her. He didn't want to ask, was afraid of the answer but he had to know, it threatened to overwhelm him, not knowing, and his voice left him in a whisper, "Aleia, did you ever love me?"

Utter silence, filled the cabin, he didn't even hear her breathing, she'd gone so still. He waited, not giving her the satisfaction of his retreat from this most uncomfortable situation. Finally, she answered, "What do you want me to say? That I did, that I never did? Would it make what I did more or less monstrous if I had? How is it even important any more?"

"It just...is. I don't know what was lies and what wasn't. I need to know what's real." He rested his forehead on his fist, feeling his eyes burn.

She paused for so long that he began to wonder if she intended to ever answer him, when she said, "You win. I'm not answering that."

He whirled to find her standing just on the other side of the bars, "That's not fair!"

"What is?"

"This was your game."

"And now it's done. You've won, you have your tactical intel." Her eyes were dead in her face and he wondered not for the first time what had gone so wrong in her to make her do all the unconscionable things she'd done. They stared at each other across the room and she suddenly asked a question that he'd never have thought to hear from her, "If I had the answer you wanted, if that somehow magically fixed all of it...would you forgive me?"

"No." The word rang in the space between them and he searched her face, looking for remorse or guilt or any of the things he'd expect to find in anyone else, but there was nothing, just a blank mask, what it hid, he didn't know, suddenly felt he didn't want to know. It would only complicate matters. He turned away once more and stepped through the portal.

As it slid shut behind him, he heard her soft exhalation of breath, fueling a single word, almost too soft to hear, "...good."


	27. Chapter 27

"-Forward battery's offline!" Errol shouted in the clamorous bridge.

"That last shot really did a number our systems, boss!" Simp as his hands flew over the controls, trying to track all their targets at once. The debris that was once the Abraxus surrounded them, clouding their exact location from the enemy ships that buzzed around the area like angry insects, looking for whoever dared turn traitor in their midst, destroying a dreadnought and two cruisers.

"Can we get a message to the Normandy?" Marcus swayed easily with the heaving deck as they dodged and danced around the larger bits of space trash. Out the viewports, he could see the real battle. Most of the enemy was engaged over there, with the geth and council fleets that protected the Normandy.

"No, any comm traffic would pinpoint our location for the Shepards." Ushal said, his calm voice at odds with the bucking ship.

"We might have to risk it. If any of those shuttles land on the Normandy, this battle is over." Marcus swept a hand over the navmap, zooming in on the area revealed by their ladar pings. So many ships now drifted derelict out there. He jabbed a finger at one spot, larger than the rest, out at the rim of the fight, "There! Is that the command carrier?"

It wasn't all that far from where they were, but the space was clear between them and it. They'd be spotted for sure. But without that carrier, their adversaries couldn't do jack shit. The fleet protecting the Normandy would pick them apart in a matter of minutes. Marcus shot a look at Javik, "Get Aleia up here!"

The prothean jogged away. Anxiously, he watched the swarm of shuttles converging on their target, their blips popping in and out of existence, dodging incoming fire. Not all of it though. The new geth targeting programs were making it so that they were holding their own, for now. But even he could see that it was only a matter of time.

Susan's vision had narrowed to one point, that carrier. It was the key, it was the crux and foremost, it was Liara. Her mother was within reach at long last. The pounding of feet behind her told her that Javik and their prisoner had arrived. She turned to see him dragging her along by her cuffs, ruthlessly throwing her to the deck at their feet.

Marcus looked down at her, "She can hear you?"

Aleia got to her feet unsteadily, but returned his glare with one of her own, "Yes."

"When we break away from the debris, I want you to be screaming that we're friendly. I don't want that carrier to jump away from us."

She looked at him suspiciously, "What exactly are you planning, Marcus?"

"Let's just say, we lost the gun so now we have to improvise. That carrier has to go down." Marcus growled. Simp mimed his hand flying into something and exploding, with appropriate sound effects, a ghastly grin stretching his mouth.

Aleia's eyes widened, "You're mad, all of you. Suicidal bunch of idiots!"

"Far from it. We'll be away in shuttles before the actual impact." Marcus looked down into Susan's grim face, they talked long about this possibility. That ship out there was just too big for the frigate's main cannon to destroy anyway. The downside was that Liara could be killed in the impact. Susan's eyes had steeled and his memory fed him her voice, '_Better dead than their toy.'_

He'd agreed, much to his shame, but inside he'd known it was the right choice. Taking out that carrier was imperative. They couldn't hope to save the Normandy otherwise. "Everyone suit up. Aleia, I hope you brought EVA gear."

She sputtered and Javik laughed low and menacing, "I will find her a suit in the armory."

The prothean pushed her into a chair, "Do not touch anything."

"Why should I do this again? I could just let you chase the Sanctorum as it jumps further and further out of your reach." Her tone was almost petulant and she waved her bound arms in anger.

"You do this and I'll guarantee you'll live to be turned over to the council's judiciary committee for fair trial."

"Not good enough. You know as well as I do the punishment for treason. It's death either way for me." She was leading him somewhere and he wasn't sure he was going to like whatever it was she really wanted.

He turned her chair so she faced him fully and said, "Alright then, what would you have in exchange for your...cooperation?"

"That's more like it. I want you to..." Aleia paused and he waved her to continue impatiently, they didn't have time for her games, "forget me. Let me off the leash once you have what you want. I'll go back to my side, who'll remain none the wiser and you'll save your friends, who will no doubt be impressed at your '_compassion'."_

Her sarcasm was biting and he growled, "On the other hand, what's to stop me from telling the Shepards just how much of a traitor you are once you've left?"

She sneered, "You're nothing if not predictable. I'll have your word, Vakarian. Your pride won't allow you to break it."

"You think you know me, don't you, Aleia? You'd be amazed at what I'm capable of now." He allowed a menacing tone to fill his voice in threatening subharmonics and was gratified to see her freeze momentarily, her eyes flickering in fear.

"Do it, Marcus." Said Susan, her expression hard as flint.

He turned to her with a low warning tone, "Susan-"

"We need her to do this. Besides, if she becomes a problem," Susan's eyes grew even icier as they pinned Aleia to the spot, "we can always hunt her down again."

Marcus nodded, the decision already made and spoke to Aleia, leaning in dangerously close to her, "You cause trouble for me and mine again, Aleia, and you better find the deepest, darkest hole to hide in. I will come for you and this time, I won't stop."

Aleia swallowed and nodded, seeming struck speechless.

"Errol, prep the shuttles. You'll be flying one, and Ushal the other." Marcus took the other turian male aside before he rushed off to complete his assigned task and leaned in close. "Errol, once we're clear of the explosion, I want you to peel away and head for the Normandy. Ushal has an IFF for you to broadcast on shortwave once you're in range so they don't try to blow you up."

"But what about the carrier?" The man said concernedly, his eyes watching his face with something like...trust. Far from the hostile demeanor that Errol used to display to him. "I thought the plan was to storm the place."

"I need you to get the kids and Javik to safety. The risk of him falling into their hands is too great and those girls...they don't need to lose both parents if this thing goes sideways." He glanced over to where a certain human girl was eavesdropping surreptitiously and yanked her into their close grouping, "Mira, you're with Errol. Get that intel and your mother's data to the council. Ask for Ambassador Anderson, he'll listen to you."

She glowed with pleasure at being given this responsibility and she saluted him, sloppily, drawing a laugh from Errol and Susan. The human girl colored in slight embarrassment, but Marcus nodded at her in approval and a grin lit her features. Errol punched her playfully on the shoulder, "Come with me, girl. Let's see if you've learned a thing or two about those shuttles you've been poking around."

They jogged away, passing the prothean, who had a jumble of different armors in his arms, which he dumped unceremoniously at Aleia's feet. She shot him a look of indignation, which was blown apart in the face of his fury. He spat, "You have five minutes to get dressed."

"I can't get the suit on with these-" She thrust her cuffs up into his face and he tapped his omnitool angrily. Their low buzz ceased and they snapped apart, no longer magnetized and her hands dived for the plates at her feet, sorting through them with skill, she made a hiss of frustration, "You couldn't find a matching set?"

"Your fashion sense is not my concern. Get going."

The ship pitched sideways, a loud deafening boom filling the bridge. Everyone stumbled drunkenly as the frigate fought for equilibrium. Ushal stated, "We've been spotted."

"No shit, you blasted machine!" Simp said, shaking his fist at the ceiling.

"No use hiding any longer. Take us out there." Marcus held on to the back of the pilot's seat as they rolled out of cover with a burst of speed. With dismay, he noted the five ships on their six, all firing fair accurate shots that if not for the skill of their geth pilot would have punctured their hull and sliced them to ribbons. Even with the inertial dampeners, the deck heaved and lurched in a sickening way. He latched his own helmet on, hearing the seals close with a hiss and called up his HUD with a blink, checking his suit integrity.

Susan nodded behind her own mask, letting him know she was ready. Simp shot him a thumbs up. He saw that Aleia had her suit on, though its mismatched pieces were a bit comical. Seems some parts must have come from male turian armors. No matter, it would be workable and he pecked at his omnitool to turn her cuffs back on, but left them free swinging. Her head turned and he could only guess that she was giving him a glare, "No biotics or they give you a shock. Behave and I won't turn the magnets back on. Start broadcasting our very friendly nature to Liara."

They maneuvered crazily to avoid fire, dropping countermeasures at uneven intervals to draw missile strikes away from them. Marcus looked out the viewport, they were getting very close now. The carrier loomed ahead and true to Aleia's word, it gave no indication of blinking away. "Everyone get to the shuttles!"

"Vakarian-CO, someone must pilot the ship. The autopilot does not seem to be engaging."

"What do you mean the autopilot isn't working?" He demanded. "Can't we just lock our course and hit the thrusters?"

"We took too many hits. The navigation systems are shutting down. I have already lost readings from the port sensors. It will have to be flown manually."

"Shit!" Something always goes wrong. His mind reeled as it tried to find some other way.

"The only logical conclusion is that I stay."

"No, no, no. Not happening. I need you on that ship." Time was running out, as it always had the unfortunate tendency to do. He had to do something and leaving his friend on this dying ship was not an option. He pushed his way back into the bridge and started disconnecting the geth's orb from its nest of wires.

"What are you doing, Marcus? You are endangering the mission if you delay."

"I'm not leaving you here. I'll stay and make sure the ship stays on target-"

Everyone still on the bridge shouted a resounding negative and he shouted back, "Those are my orders. Get to the shuttles. NOW!"

"No, boy, they'll need you over there." Simp grabbed his arm and he snarled wordlessly at the human, but he didn't relent, merely squeezed tighter. "I'll stay."

Susan, guts flopping painfully once when Marcus declared his intention to stay and now, once again, "Simp, you can't pilot..."

"Never got the hang of all these buttons, me. But I can point her in the right direction and hit the gas and as I see it, I can do an excellent job crashing." The human grinned behind the clear glass of his mask and pushed them all in the direction of the elevator. "Go save your mum, Susie. Give'em a good kickin' fer me."

"Simp, I can't let you-" Marcus shouted, only to have the human give him a hard shove out of the bridge, his hand poised over the door controls.

"Beggin' yer pardon, but I already have. Won't be the first time I've mutinied. First time I've done it to play the hero, though. Strange times." The pirate punched the buttons that would close off the crew from the bridge and just before it shut them away from the brave man completely, Simp said to Marcus, "You take care of her."

And it was done, the lock glowed a baleful red at him. Marcus rested his palm on it and whispered, "I will."

The run to the shuttle bay was a hectic scramble and in the end, when he was seated and strapped in, his breath coming hard and fast, he realized that there was something else amiss. Something out of place and he turned to that disturbance with an angry shout, "Spirits dammit, Javik, you were supposed to be on the other boat!"

"So you can have me shuttled off to safety like the young or infirm?" The prothean crossed his arms defiantly.

Marcus threw his hands up in the air, spitting in fury, "So, instead, you give the enemy a chance to capture you. So your daughters' parents can both be gone from their lives, leaving them orphaned."

His bitterly harsh words caused the prothean to shrink a little in his seat, but those four eyes remained stalwart, "What would you have me do? Sit by and hope you bring my mate home to me? Or wish her a clean death if you cannot? I might not-I have to...this might be my only chance to see her again."

Javik leaned forward and he could see the man's pride bending, that savage fire of arrogance dimming to mere banked coals and his deep voice came out of him beseechingly, "Do not deny me this, Marcus Vakarian. For the love her father had for your uncle, do not deny me this. Please."

The prothean nodded to Susan, whose brows shot up in astonishment behind her transparent helmet. She scooted as far forward as she could in her seat restraints, demanding, "What do you mean by that?"

"I tried to be a good parent to you, did I not? For_ her,_ I could do no less." Those four eyes were far away now, but they slid to Susan's bright green ones, "But you always knew I wasn't your father, child. And that made things...difficult."

The crew exchanged puzzled glances. Past the seated Caesar, Javik and Susan, Marcus found his gaze on Aleia, whose utter stillness belied the intense fire in her eyes. There was something wrong-

"Who do you mean by _'her'_? Mom-?" An idea tickled at the back of her mind, something altogether too neat an explanation for...everything. But it would have to wait as Ushal filled the compartment with his unnaturally calm voice.

"I suggest you brace yourselves. The shockwave is going to hit us shortly." Marcus looked out the viewport just in time to see the frigate collide with the massive carrier. The resulting explosion whited out his vision for a moment and their little shuttle was tossed around as though on violent winds, turning up into down, all sense of direction was lost for a time.

When his body finally figured out which way was up, he found himself half out of his seat, the harness having buckled under the strain. "Everyone okay?"

Everyone was accounted for by their groans and he struggled to his feet, leaning against the bulkhead to stare back out the window. Half the carrier was blown to hell. Of the frigate, there were no remains large enough to identify. A pang shot through him, "Spirits keep you, Simp."

Caesar's large hand dropped onto his shoulder, "His sacrifice will not be in vain."

The sentiment was echoed behind him in whispers. He studied the breached hull before them with a critical eye, "There, land us there, Ushal. In that collapsed section."

The geth guided their battered craft into the section of passageway that was open to space and Marcus collected the sphere as the shuttle powered down and shoved it into a pocket. No time for niceties. Everyone signaled readiness and he opened the hatch, the little air that filled the compartment rushing out into space, frosting as the the water vapor in it froze.

Susan was surprised to see a biotic glow spring into life around Javik and Caesar, it seemed they had no need for sealed suits to survive space. She'd ask later, when more pressing matters were dealt with.

He made sure to keep an eye on their prisoner as they made their way through the half destroyed ship, swift and silent. He was filled with a volatile mixture of hope and trepidation and as he locked gazes with Susan, he knew she felt it too.

* * *

"Get down!" Marcus yelled, pushing Javik behind a crate as the large force of mechs ahead jolted 'awake'. He saw orange light flicker into being around the attenuated mechanical shapes and groaned, "Great, they're all shielded."

Her magboots clunked with each step, resonating up through her legs as she dove from cover to cover to avoid getting cornered. They'd found an area of the ship that still had air, but the artificial gravity controls must be broken. She shot a mech that charged her position. Not that she expected much of a self preservation instinct from mechs, but the way these seemed intent on mobbing them with sheer numbers was getting...problematic. She rolled and threw a singularity at the same time, coming up into a crouch near the end of the corridor. Looking at the glowing ball filled with the floating paralyzed mechs, she extended a hand and with a small grunt of effort, tightened her focus and squeezed it into a fist. The singularity contracted to a single point, taking the machines with it, crushing them into oblivion.

Marcus' mouth dropped open as he witnessed half a dozen shielded mechs get turned into just so much scrap metal. It had only taken an instant and out of the corner of his eye, he saw another mech, unnoticed, advancing on the distracted asari and yelled a warning, bringing about his sniper rifle just a fraction of a second too late, "Susan!"

Susan turned her head to see the end of a pistol not two feet from her face and her lip curled back. There was no way she could dodge the coming shot. A shape rose up behind the mech and barreled it to the ground, straddling it and then repeatably smashed it in the head with the heavy metal cuffs that encased each hand. Susan's amazed green stare met one of cobalt and the turian female nodded fractionally before standing and running into cover, a burst of fire chasing her.

Susan exchanged a look with Marcus that said, _What the hell game is she playing at?_ A roar behind her had her poke her head out of cover just a bit to see Caesar spinning and leaping in the enemy ranks, that strange weapon of his flashing as it tore them apart. With an answering shout, she stood and charged, calling a barrier into existence to shield her. She drew a shotgun and blasted one point blank, the head of the one beside it exploded into shrapnel. Marcus was picking them off from the rear, with help from Javik.

Soon, the mechs were all down and his team advanced warily. Marcus found his gaze on Aleia once again, puzzled by how she'd come to Susan's aid. Why would the traitor do that? What exactly was she planning? The turian female walked in silence, her closed expression telling him nothing. Her eyes far away. Too much to hope for some altruistic agenda. One would think that it would be in Aleia's best interest if their numbers were pared down little by little. Would make it easier if she was planning some new betrayal. He wouldn't put it past her.

They came to a fork, and the group looked down each direction doubtfully. Javik addressed their captive, "Which way to the center?"

Aleia nodded to the left and Marcus said, "Take point."

The turian shot him a venomous look but did as he said, stalking down the corridor in a half crouch. "If you gave me a weapon, I could help. Or better yet, turn off these cuffs."

He laughed a single chuff of incredulity, "Ha, no."

"Can't blame a girl for trying." With Aleia guiding them, they found the inner sanctum within half an hour and Marcus set the geth to unlocking the massive doors that kept them from Liara.

_'It appears this section of the carrier sustained little damage from the collision. Some structural breaches, but the mass effect fields are holding.' _The orange words lit up on his visor and he relayed the information to the rest.

"Good. Now get us in there." Javik growled, shifting from foot to foot.

"It will take some time, he says." Marcus set about looking through the rubble for useful things. He pocketed some medigel from a dispenser on the wall. Medigel was never to be sneered at.

'_Alert. Interior sensors indicate the presence of many enemy soldiers converging on our position. They followed us.' _A map of the carrier flashed on his HUD, showing him the swarm of red dots headed their way.

"We're going to have some company. Soon." He upended some tables. Taking their cue from him, the rest dragged or tipped over various pieces of rubble to give them some kind of defense against an assault. The large fragments floated rather than stayed stationary in the zero g. Marcus eyed the corridor distastefully, it was too open, if he'd had time, he would have created a pinch point to funnel the enemy to them in manageable numbers. "Ushal, is the way back to the shuttle blocked?"

_'Yes. But there is an alternate route, a bit circuitous but relatively free of hostiles.' _A red line appeared on the map, winding about the ship in a very complex pattern. It seemed to go up and down randomly, jumping from deck to deck.

"What are these? Maintenance tunnels?"

'_Correct. But most of them do not have atmosphere.'_

_"_Should have brought a suit for Liara." At his team's inquisitive looks, he explained the situation.

Javik said, "I can extend my biotic shield to cover her for a time. If we must take the tunnels, we must take the tunnels."

Marcus ducked as a shot intended for his head slammed into the crate he was leaning on, "Hostiles at ten o'clock!"

They flooded the room. Susan worked hard with her biotics to keep them contained enough to stop them overwhelming their position long enough for the rest to kill or incapacitate them. A line of singularities formed, leaving an opening just wide enough for a few to come through at a time. Marcus shot her a grateful look and set to work taking advantage of it. His rifle overheated time and time again, he often had to switch out with his assault rifle.

A cry from the back ranks followed by a loud snarl told him that Caesar had worked his magic again, appearing at the enemy's vulnerable backside and tearing it a proverbial new one. Marcus grinned at the panicked shouts that drifted to him. "Ushal, how long?"

'_Marcus, it seems while I have been working to counter the security measures set in place by the Shepards, an access code was input manually.'_

He swung around to see the door widely ajar and cursed resoundingly, knowing even as he looked around that Aleia would be gone, "Son of a bitch!"

Susan followed his line of sight and echoed him. "How did Ushal not know the damn door was being opened?"

'_I'm sorry. I was...occupied.' _If text could sound apologetic, these did. He didn't blame Ushal, he should have kept a closer watch on Aleia.

He called up the map and cued it to track the tracer chip in Aleia's cuffs, watched it race to where he was sure Liara waited, and shouted, "Fall back to the antechamber! Ushal, lock these doors."

It shut with a hiss just as Javik cleared it and Marcus saw Caesar pop into existence at his side, his once pristine white coat bloody, a grisly wound in his side. Concerned, Marcus reached out to brush the fur aside to get a closer look. It was a deep slice, burned at the edges. An omniblade, surely. He shot an accusatory look up into Caesar's face, "I thought you said to not get hit."

The taa'ih grinned savagely and shrugged, "It is only a flesh wound. Even I cannot dodge forever."

"Rub this on it." He passed the alien a medigel packet.

'_They are hacking the door. I cannot keep them out indefinitely.'_

Marcus ran down the passage, shouting, "C'mon, Aleia has a head start on us!"

They ran along, through the empty antechamber that had held supplicants in the other ones, but was eerily silent here and burst into the inner sanctum to see Aleia kneeling at the base of Liara's...throne? This room was designed slightly differently from the others. Liara wasn't strung up in a harness with tubes and wires going in and out of her. She sat, in a chair and looking closer, Susan could see from the way her arms seemed glued to the rests that she was hooked up to the machine, just a bit more...elegantly than the others. On her mother's upturned face, the same blank horror though, her eyes aware, her lips moving as she whispered strings of nonsensical data.

Something about the way she stared upwards drew all their gazes to the ceiling, or rather the lack of a ceiling, where a gaping hole in the ship opened on a view of the battle without. The Normandy and her hearty defenders holding off the endless waves of the enemy armada. Was Liara present enough to know what was going on? Something about the way she stared told Marcus that maybe she was and a cold shiver ran through him at the thought.

That shiver turned into a tingle that grew all along his limbs, the hum of the engine under their feet crescendoing in volume until it felt as though every molecule in his body was shaking. His vision was starting to blur and he was sure he was shouting a question, something like '_What the hell is going on?'_

Susan held her hands over her aural canals and shouted back, 'She's moving us!"

She knew this feeling, had felt it on that moon so long ago, just before being teleported out to dark space. She watched the end of Marcus' barrel rise up to shoot Aleia but it was too late and with a sickening pull from way deep down in her intestines, the ship _jumped._

Suddenly, the Normandy was close, alarmingly so. He felt like he could reach out and touch it, but his mind told him it was still a good ways off. A laugh resounded in the space, and his attention was once again on that harridan that had caused them so much grief. His vision tunneled as he prepared to do what he should have done all along. End this, end her before she could do any more harm.

Aleia was starting to flicker there and he shouted a denial, shooting a shot to silence that laughter, but it passed through her harmlessly and struck the floor. "Too late, Vakarian. Much too late."

And she popped out of existence. He screamed in fury, staring at the empty space she used to occupy.

Javik shouted, pointing up, "Look!"

Movement, something between where they stood and the ship they were trying to save. He blinked to tighten the magnification of his visor and saw the familiar shape of Aleia, awkwardly maneuvering toward the Normandy with her airjets. If she got there...

"No!" His rifle swung up and fired without his really meaning it to and the round flew up and pierced the fragile barrier keeping them safe from the cold emptiness of the void, popping it like a soap bubble, his shot thrown askew. An ill timed stumble and his magboots disengaged from the deck, the rush of escaping atmosphere dragging him out into space. He spun as best he could to see Caesar and Javik scrambling to free Liara and shield her from explosive decompression. Susan stared up in horror at him as he drifted away and he reached out unconsciously.

She felt a roar of denial building in her chest and set her feet, feeling her skin seem to grow tight, like it couldn't contain all of her and she reached way down into her being and _pushed. _

He felt something take hold of him and with a great heave, send him rocketing toward that dwindling dot that was Aleia, growing larger now as he accelerated toward her. The tingling feeling swept him from head to toe, making him arch spasmodically, his teeth grinding together, shredding the surface of his tongue. The pain shocked him back to full awareness and slowly, so very slowly, he forced his muscles to work. The end of his rifle came up in a smooth lazy motion, its shaking held barely in check.

Susan felt rather than heard the approach of the enemy at her back and called to Caesar and Javik, who'd between them ripped Liara free of her restraints. "Get her home. Caesar, take them to the Normandy."

"He can take us all!" The man who was a better father to her than she'd ever realized before approached her, hand out to her beseechingly, even as he cradled her mother closer.

"You have no idea how difficult this is. I can't stop now." She groaned, feeling fire alight in her synapses as she fought to maintain Marcus' trajectory. She shook with effort. He had to be safe, she had to get him to that ship up there. It didn't matter as long as he was safe. Javik's protests were sharply cut off as he was engulfed in Caesar's embrace, all three of them winking out of existence. She gasped in relief, her reserves flagging. But she didn't relent, even as she was surrounded by dozens of armed and armored men.

Radio chatter in his ear, Aleia screaming to her fellow fanatics to take Susan alive, all prior orders suspended until Susan T'soni was captured. Rage filled him with madness, a resurgence of the hate that used to sustain him through the tattered remnants of his life and he forced his twitchy finger to squeeze. The recoil slammed him back, made him spin and he hit his jets to stabilize, crying out in triumph as Aleia shouted in pain. He saw her react unthinkingly, turning her own spin into a mimetic, only to have her whole body go rigid as her restraints shocked her into near unconsciousness.

He was closing fast. Five meters, two meters, he held out his arms to catch her, which he did, grappling with her struggling form in the weightless depths. Finally, he had her immobilized, arms pinned to her sides, the temporary emergency suit patch still slowly leaking blood and air, which crystallized around them. Now, pushed along by whatever it was Susan had done, was still doing somehow, miraculously, they were both approaching the Normandy at an alarmingly fast pace. He forced back the bloodrage long enough to ask, "You know I can't let you get anywhere near the Normandy. But before I kill you, tell me, why Susan?"

Aleia laughed hollowly and he could just glimpse her wide, mad eyes behind her faceplate, "For a brilliant man, you can be incredibly dense. Javik said it all. 'For the love her father had for your uncle.' Shepard. Susan's father is Jane Shepard."

The realization slammed home with mindnumbing force. Of course the Shepards would want the one living descendant of their god. He wrenched her head to the side and hissed savagely, "But why, Aleia, why did you do this? I would have let you go."

Her breath was growing ragged as her suit's integrity started failing. He could hear in the background of the comm the whine of alarms jangling faintly, "Do you...know what kind of...favors I could have...bought if I had suc...ceeded? I...would have...finally been...free."

He heard her acceptance of her failure in her tone, but hadn't expected the despair that bled from her voice. She was starting to gasp and writhe and he could picture her organs slowly expanding, fit to burst in her body cavity. All the horror stories he'd heard over the years of people getting spaced came back to haunt him as he watched her slowly die. He'd once dreamed of killing her slowly, but did anyone really deserve this? His hand found the seal on her helmet to grant her a quick and merciful death and her eyes swiveled to look at him, her mouth working near soundlessly as she tried to breathe air that was no longer there.

The Normandy loomed, any minute now they would collide with the hull and he didn't know whether or not the rest of his team had succeeded in cutting Liara loose or if they'd found a way off that dying carrier at his back. Maybe they were dead. Or worse... But he could do this one thing right. He saw understanding in Aleia's eyes as his thumb flicked the release open. Just before he let go, she grabbed his hand in one of hers, squeezing with surprising strength, her lapis lazuli gaze demanding him to see how much the effort cost her, the effort to convey to him something that must be of much import to warrant it. He hesitated, thinking how strange it was to have the memory of that curious earth gem occur to him now, the one he'd had set into the wristlet he'd had made for her. She clutched at him and struggled monumentally to whisper a single word, "Gunner..."

And with that strange utterance, she yanked his hand away and it took her faceplate with it, the rush of all her remaining air flying into cold space. He felt her jerk once, twice in his arms before going limp. Gently, he turned them and let his legs take the shock of them hitting the Normandy's hull, the forces taking him to his knees painfully. He didn't look at her face, it was surely a ruin of burst corpuscles and bulging plates now, her eyes would have been one of the first things to explode. The analytical side of his mind stating these facts coldly as the rest of him fought down the bile that threatened to rise.

He stood erect, still holding her corpse and walked along the ship's exterior to an emergency hatch. There didn't seem to be an access panel or anything with buttons to open it that he could see. He opened his comms to allied frequencies, "Normandy, this is Marcus..Vakarian, I'm at maintenance hatch 14b. Think you can let me in?"

Joker's voice crackled in his ear, "Marcus? How the hell did you get-? Wait, let me get you on vid."

A small sensor array further along the hull swiveled in his direction and he heard Joker mutter in surprise, "Holy shit, it is really him!"

A female voice broke in, "I can see that, Jeff. Marcus, we have taken heavy damage and that hatch can only be opened manually from the outside. There is a removable plate just left of its center."

"I see it. Hold on." Hooking one talon in the depressed section, he pulled. With a hiss, it popped free. Beneath there was a handle of some kind, connected to a long bar. He could see from studying it that it was a purely mechanical device. He gave it a brief yank with no results, it didn't move an inch, "It seems to be stuck or something."

"It takes a lot of torque to displace the lock bars. It was designed to only be used by engineers while we're in dry dock. Try using both hands."

That would require letting go of Aleia's body. He found himself hesitating, no, he didn't just want to abandon her body out here. That wouldn't be right, now that she was dead, it was...safe to feel concern over what happened to her remains. He pulled one of her air hoses free and lashed it to his belt, then bent to the task of opening the hatch.

He grunted as he pulled at the handle, it shook under the strain but didn't lift by more than a few inches and after a few sweaty tense moments, he let off again with a frustrated growl. "It's really stubborn."

"Is there something you can use as like, a lever?" Joker said.

He thought and pulled out his ancient rifle, looking at it dubiously. It might work. He jammed it under the mechanism and pushed with all his might, his muscles cramping with the effort. He felt the door lock give as the same exact moment the rifle did, the barrel breaking off not so cleanly from the rest of the gun. Remorse filled him as he regarded what remained of it. It had been a good weapon, hell, nearly a companion. No, it was one, no doubts about that. If weapons had spirits like his ancestors believed, this one must have had one hell of an attitude.

He pulled himself exhaustedly through the small hatch and dragged Aleia in after. He was now in the tiniest airlock he'd ever seen, claustrophobic even, his broken rifle jabbing him in the hip. With a lot of wriggling, he closed the hatch behind him, and as it sealed, he said to the air sarcastically, "Now can you let me in? I don't have another lever."

"We got friends working on the door now. Jack and James have a lot of questions."

"So do I." He rested as comfortably as he could in the dark.

"Like how Javik and Liara and that big furry bastard showed up in medbay. Thanks for warning us that that thing could talk, by the way."

Alarms jangled in his tired mind, "They took Susan, didn't they."

It wasn't a question and equally unsurprising came the answer, "Judging by the look on Javik's face just now when I asked him, I'd say that's a fair bet."

He wanted to feel rage, the honest fire-in-the-veins sort of fury that could move mountains, and it _was_ there, he could just touch the edges of it. What he hadn't been prepared for was the wave of intense loss that struck him and he trembled under the cold weight of Aleia across his legs. The thought that he would never see Susan again, and the things that might be happening to her...oh yes, he wanted to_ burn_ with anger, but he also knew that it wasn't time yet. It would come when it was called, obedient and controlled, this he felt in his bones.

Just then, the wall holding him up gave way and he tumbled out into the light, landing with an 'oof' in the middle of the galley. Faces filled his vision, all making concerned noises as they helped him to his feet. He winced as he was patted on the back repeatedly. He pulled his helmet off and dropped it unceremoniously at his feet, eyeing its red paint and enemy symbols with extreme distaste. Never again, he swore. No more hiding, or pretending to be one of them. No more walking among them in disguise. They would know him for exactly who he was, and if he had any say in it, they would come to regret every single wrong they'd done. To him and to the galaxy at large.

The voices around him died down as the company took in his deadly grim countenance. Caesar dropped a massive hand onto his shoulder and he turned to the giant and his huge grin. Marcus nodded in answer to the silent question in those golden eyes and turned on his heel to head to CIC, he knew they would all follow. James, his black brows beetling over his stormy eyes, asked, "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Marcus didn't turn his head one iota as he answered, "They have Susan. They're going to put her in one of those machines, like they did to some of you. Would have done to all of you, if that...if Aleia-"

He faltered for a moment, then gathered himself and jabbed a finger at Aleia's corpse before continuing. Jacob was crouched down by her with something in his hands, but he spared no thought for it. Those were things of his past now, they would stay there, "-had set foot on this ship. I'm betting some, if not all of you know why they took her. That Jane Shepard has a living daughter is a secret you all have kept extremely well over the years. I don't care if you didn't tell her to protect her, hell, I don't care that she's Shepard's daughter. She's just Susan to me. And they have her..."

He finally turned to them, the shocked ones that hadn't known, the smiling ones that had suspected and the guilty ones that did and had kept the truth from Susan and he held out his hand as though to invite them to join him and he felt something rise in him and unfurl, almost a fierce sense of pride in them, as he saw their disparate purposes unite, become one, become _his_ purposes, and at the moment, he only had the one and he voiced his determination in a low growl, welcoming that rage that coiled in his guts, biding its time, "And I will be damned if they get to keep her."


	28. Chapter 28

_Epilogue:_

_Some sort of stun baton, _her first thought as she muggily awoke, feeling a tingling pain in all her limbs, throbbing in time with her pulse. Even her tentacles hurt from where they hung limply around her face. Running her tongue around her very dry mouth, she coughed, then groaned when this caused agony to shoot through her entire cranium. She must have strained hard with her biotics to have this much backlash hit her now. _Ugh, I haven't felt this bad since those first 'lessons' with Javik._

Bits and pieces were coming back to her now. The carrier, her mother, terror and an overwhelming need to protect. Marcus! Did he make it? She couldn't remember if she'd seen him get to the Normandy or not. She sent a quick prayer into the ether, _Please let this not have been for nothing. _

Her eyes burned as she thought of Marcus spinning away into space, lost forever. Soft footsteps to her right had her whipping her head around in that direction, her eyes flying open onto a soft darkness. Blind! No, blindfolded. Her guts churned in fear as whoever it was approached and she tried to shift in her tight bonds to no avail. She was in a kneeling position with both arms locked into some kind of yoke that stretched them out slightly above and behind her head. Judging from the soreness in her shoulders, she must have been in this position for quite some time.

She flinched when a hand touched her flank, she could tell from its texture and shape that her captor was turian, or krogan possibly, though they usually breathed louder. This...person seemed not to breathe at all, was deathly silent as he or she walked a circle around her, touching the asari here and there, lingering over cuts, pressing into bruises. She curled her lip back in a silent snarl, beating back the terror that sent a tingle up her spine.

Her captor laughed, a harsh croak that had nothing whatsoever to do with humor. Definitely turian, "It's good that you still have fire. I do so hate when they come to me broken."

Broken? That boded ill. She decided to try to take back control of this situation. They obviously wanted something, otherwise they'd have just killed her. She licked her lips and said, "Water."

Another chuckle, and that hand slid up her neck to tilt her head back. Cool liquid ran down her throat from the cup he held to her lips and she greedily gulped the intensely refreshing water, letting some of it trickle down her neck in her haste. It was drawn away much too soon and she protested, leaning after it. "Later, my dear."

Her inner passenger also scolded her, for the waste and for showing this man her weakness. She flushed hotly in embarrassment, but reigned it in before it did more than heat her cheeks.

There was silence for a time. She resisted squirming under the prickle of his scrutiny, growing more and more uncomfortable until finally she asked, "What do you want?"

His thumb came up to wipe water from the corners of her mouth and she shivered, recoiling from the falsely tender ministrations of her tormentor. She wondered when the pain would start, tried not to think of all the horrible things this man could do to her now she was alone and defenseless. Her biotics were at an all time low, her reserves burnt to near nothing. Suddenly, he seemed very close, pressing into her personal space and now she could hear him breathe. His scent strangely familiar, something like cloves. She clenched her hands and wondered if she could headbutt him when she froze at the sound of his whisper, coming from not two inches away from her face, "What do_ you_ want?"

She paused, then put a smile on her face, "Mostly I want to be out of here. Maybe find a nice beach to take a nice long vacation on, cause, boy, do I need it. But I'd settle for just having my hands free so I could kill you."

He laughed and leaned away and she kept herself from breathing a sigh of relief, "Unfortunately, I can't accommodate at this time. Let's work on the possible, shall we? We'll start with the basics. Health...as we speak, I have medtechs waiting in the other room to administer medigel."

"What's the point if you just plan on torturing me anyway?"

"Worried, Miss T'soni? You need not, you are eminently safe here."

She snorted in derision, rattling her restraints to illustrate just how much of a lie that was. "Safe? Trapped with you psychos and you tell me I'm safe?"

His tone was amused, smug even and she wished she had headbutted him, taken away some of that superiority in his gravelly voice. "You are safe. Safer than you have ever been in your whole life. I will make sure of it."

She was confused, why were they so concerned about her health? "I'm touched. But I'm not telling you anything, no matter how nice you want to pretend to be."

"Have you never done evil to do good? Have you never killed people who were in your way? Tell me you don't have the blood of dozens on your hands and I'll let you walk out of here right now." She wished she could see his face, to gauge just how well he could act the part of the utterly reasonable conciliator.

Of course she couldn't tell him she'd never killed, hell she'd threatened to kill him just now and her silence just made his smugness larger in the space they had her imprisoned in. She wondered where she was exactly, there was no rumble of deckplates under her feet. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough." Sharply said and her brows raised at his tone. He was probably just trying to keep her off balance, not that she could find that stable place in her mind. "Back to basic needs. Health, safety, we talked about those. Food, water, shelter, you'll have all the things the body needs to thrive. What about the intangibles, you might ask. The not so basic, but still very necessary needs."

Actually, she was still reeling at this odd turn of events to even think about asking such a thing and she thought hard about what she knew about the Shepards and their interrogation methods and was worried when all she could recall was rooms painted in blood, the victims' faces frozen in agony. They'd never been gentle before, what the hell was this then?

"Are you paying attention to me, Susan?" His hand clasped her chin roughly and she gasped in sudden pain. Those fingers loosened abruptly and she worked her jaw to help ease the discomfort.

"Can't help yourself, can you? C'mon, bring on the whips and chains, I might like it you know." She was baiting him, but she didn't care and flashed a savage grin at where she thought he was.

Suddenly he was there beside her, his hand around her throat, but not really squeezing, his mouth at her ear. Struck witless by fear, she tried to move away only to have him drag her against his body with his other arm. His breath was hot as he spoke, "Don't tempt me. Your flesh is the least of my concerns. Back to what I was saying..."

He wasn't moving away, just held her like that, in sick imitation of a lover's caress and she choked back bile as he said, "We all need things beyond the necessities, don't we. Past the banal daily maintenance of feeding the engine that is the body, we all crave...something else, something more. Connection, company, love-"

"Love?" She said incredulously. What the fuck was he going on about?

She shivered as he chuckled again, "Yes...love."

"Was it love that made legions of soldiers turn on the council? Was it love that made you all think it was a good idea to kidnap and torture Shepard's companions?"

He didn't hesitate, "Yes. We love them, as she did. Does."

"You're sick, all of you. You tore them away from their families to use them to further your own agendas. That's not love, those are just the actions of petty, power hungry despots. I've seen what you've been doing." She spat the words, feeling anger burn hot and low in her belly. "Makryth showed me."

"Was that before or after you seduced him?" He was gently running his thumb along her jawline now and her muscles there spasmed, "You must have been very good at it to break that unshakeable faith down. Or did you rip it from his mind? Maybe we're not so different after all, hmmm? What are we willing to do to get what we want?"

"I've seen what you're willing to do. You think you scare me? With this circus sideshow of promises laced with lies and overt threats of forced sexual contact?" She depersonalized it with those words, his intimate hold on her, his soft touches, though this was far from the harsh groping and gross invasion that she'd always imagined a rape to be. It was an invasion, nonetheless, humiliating, "Either do it or get the fuck off me!"

"I already love you." He drew back reluctantly, but still kept his hand on her neck, just stroking along her jugular as though the texture fascinated him and said, "In time, you'll know just how wrong you are. Someday, I'll pour the truth into your mind and you'll love me for it."

"You and I clearly have different opinions on what love is. Ask your questions, if you have any, so I can tell you to go fuck yourself. If not, then get the fuck out!" She panted angrily after this shouted declaration.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I _want_ to interrogate you. My duty is to protect you, and make you content. As content as possible anyway."

"Bull. Shit. Why would you want to coddle a prisoner of war? Are all of your captives treated so _'compassionately'?"_

There was a smile in his voice as he replied, "No, only a very..special..few."

Then it struck her like lightning. She was being treated more like a valuable commodity, like something precious. Like...one of the apostles and she reeled back as far as her restraints would allow, moaning in horror, "No, nooo. You're not hooking me into one of those machines. You can't, I'm not one of-"

"Oh, but you are. Very special. The most special. And when we get to the Cradle, you will be reborn. You will be so beautiful, I can already see it in you." He slipped a hand behind her head and slipped the blindfold and she found herself looking into achingly familiar blue eyes. They were the same shape, the exact same color, that uncanny spectrum of blazing blue ice surrounded by black sclera. If not for the hideous scar that covered the entire lower portion of his face down into his collar, she could almost believe it was_ him_. "Rest now, let the medtechs do their work. I will be nearby if you need anything."

The cell, now that she had time to look at it, was small, spare, there was a small 'facility' in the corner that she wondered if she'd ever be allowed to use. Considering what she could infer so far though, it was getting increasingly unlikely. The necessity would cease once she was filled with tubes and wires. Tears prickled at her eyes but wouldn't fall. Some part of her, the Makryth part most likely, was holding them back, so she did what she could to curl upon herself and try to feel comforted that way. Didn't work at all, it just made her aware of how during that whole conversation, she'd been nude, and pawed at by that...that...

Words failed, or rather definitions failed. And his resemblance to the other two Vakarian brothers was uncanny. She remembered him now. Inigo, the demanding one, a boy in his brother's shadow, as all his siblings had been. Funny, she didn't recall Marcus ever mentioning that he was still alive. The utter lack had made her assume that he was long gone. Well, that was clearly not the case. Alive and working actively with the enemy. Did Marcus know?

A pang shot through her. Was Marcus alive to know? Despair was creeping in around the edges and still the tears wouldn't fall. She cursed under her breath as people entered her room, all in sterile white and steeled herself for more humiliation. If he was alive... She let a guiltily selfish thought form in her mind, _Please, Goddess, if he is dead, grant him peace. If he's alive, let him find me._

* * *

A/N: Well, if you've read this long, I know you're enjoying the story. This is the end of the second arc. I hope to have the third started soon. I still have Marcus and Susan capering about in my head, pleading for more 'screen' time. Primadonnas, the both of them. They got some good ideas though. Please review if you have a minute. Comments and criticisms are more than welcome. Let me know what you really think.


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